ill!    i'Ji 


LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 

From  the  collection  of 
ELSPETH  HUXLEY 


' 


THE   LAND  OF  THE  LION 


The  Land  of  the  Lion 


BY 


W.    S.    RAINSFORD 


Illustrated  from  Photographs 


New  York 

Doubleday,  Page  &  Company 
1909 


AIX   RIGHTS   RESERVED,    INCLUDING   THAT   OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO   FOREIGN  LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  THE   SCANDINAVIAN 

COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY  DOUBLED  AY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
PUBLISHED.  OCTOBER,  1909 


DEDICATION 

To  MY  THREE  SONS,  RALPH,  LAWRENCE  AND  KERR,  MY 
COMPANIONS  ON  MANY  A  HUNTING  TRIP  ;  TO  MY  FRIEND, 
J.  JAY  WHITE,  WHO  WAS  WITH  ME  DURING  THE  GREATER 
PART  OF  MY  LAST  AFRICAN  JOURNEY  ;  AND  TO  ALL  GOOD 
FELLOWS  WHO,  NEITHER  IN  BOYHOOD  NOR  IN  AFTER  LIFE, 
HAVE  BEEN  ABLE  TO  RESIST  THE  "RED  GOD's  CALLING," 
I  DEDICATE  THESE  NOTES  OF  THIRTEEN  MONTHS*  TRAVEL 
AND  SPORT  IN  BRITISH  EAST  AFRICA. 

NAIROBI,    DECEMBER,    1908.  W.    S.    RAINSFORD. 


CONTENTS 


Introduction xv 

First  and  second  trip — History  of  Mombassa — Portu- 
guese invasion. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     Mombassa  to  Lion  Land       ....          3 

Sunrise  on  Kilimanjaro — Nairobi — East  African  scenery 

— Start  of  the  sefari. 

i 

II.     The  Sefari 19 

"  Make-up  "  of  the  sefari — Expenses — Responsibility 
of  employer — Headmen — Tentboys — Porters — Gunboys 
Cook — "  Totos  " — The  start. 

III.  Across  the  Mau  Escarpment  to  Lion  Land  .        54 

In  Mau  forest — Kerio  River — Mt.  Elgon — Nzoia  River 
—  Nzoia  Plateau  —  First  lion  —  Wild  dog  —  Momba 
mauled  by  lion. 

IV.  My  First  Lion 81 

First  sight  of  lion  —  Cheetah  —  Lion  hunting  —  Three 
lions  killed. 
< 

V.     Hunting  in  Africa 105 

Early  hunting  days  —  Tracking  —  Rhino — Meat  — 
Gunbearers — Canadian  grizzly — Hunting  the  grizzly  in 
Canada — Hunting  "dangerous"  game — Hunting  rhino — 
Hunting  buffalo  —  Hunting  lion  —  Vultures  —  Massai 
guides. 

VI.    Sefari  Life 137 

Early  morning,  "  nature's  truce  " — Bathing — Insects — 
General  management  of  sefari — Native  industries — 
African  meat  and  how  to  cook  it — Native  fruit  and 
vegetables. 

vii 


viii  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

VII.     Hunting  Elephant  and  Riding  Lion      .         ,       160 

An  elephant  herd — J.  J.  W.'s  lion  hunt — Following 
three  lions — Herd  of  giraffe — An  exciting  lion  chase. 

VIII.     Elephant 185 

Hunting  elephant  —  Three  elephant  herds  —  A  dead 
elephant. 

IX.    Nzoia  Plateau  and  Its  Tribes         .         .         .      208 

The  Nzoia  plateau — The  tribes — Nandi  —  Massai — 
Cherangang  N'dorobo — Poisoned  arrows — Karamojo  — 
Wanyamwazi  dance — Lion  hunting  in  the  Nzoia — Malim 
wounded  by  a  lion — Valley  of  the  Kerio — Elgoan  cus- 
toms— Tribal  treatment  of  a  "  liar  " — Elgoan  views  of 
God — Native  dance. 

X.     Good-bye  Sergoit 239 

A  lion  "ride" — Best  gun  for  lion  shooting — "Riding"  a 
cheetah — A  porcupine — Ostriches  used  as  "time  pieces" 
—  The  "honey  bird" — Hyena  traps  —  A  python  climbs 
into  a  ship — The  lion's  roar — Good-bye  Sergoit  ! 

XI.     From  Gilgil  to  Kenia 260 

Naivasha  Lake — Kinan-Kop — Waterfalls — Hippo  on 
the  Embellossett — Water  birds  on  the  Embellossett — 
The  Guasi  Narok — Malaria  and  its  remedy — Mr.  Stauf- 
facher  and  the  man-eating  leopard — Lions  on  the  Guasi 
Nyiro — The  Massai  spear — An  aard  wolf — Partridges — 
Massai  flies — Mt.  Kenia — Thorn  tree — A  piper — A 
rhino. 

XII.     Syce's  Adventure  .  .         .         .      284 

A  family  of  lions — Syce's  adventure — A  buffalo  herd — 
Tracking  a  wounded  buffalo — A  buffalo's  "  charge  " — 
Reminiscences  of  the  West  in  '68 — Reminiscences  of 
Ireland — Mt.  Kenia. 

XIII.     A  Morning's  Ride  Through  Rhino  Country      302 

The  flora  of  the  country  —  Baboon's  war  cry  —  An 
ostrich  and  his  family — The  giraffe's  neck — The  home 
of  the  rhino — Wild  dog — A  mountain  stream  and  its 
fauna — The  rhino  and  its  Myocene  ancestor — An 
"  attack  "  by  a  rhino. 


CONTENTS  ix 

CHAPTER  PACK 

XIV.    The  Country 328 

Government — Land — Education — England's  "policy" — 
"Forced"  labour  and  "freedom" — The  agriculturalist 
— The  contractor — Native  taxation — The  law  courts — 
The  Hindi  and  Boer  settlers — What  does  British  East 
Africa  need  ? 

XV.    A  Plea  for  the  Native  East  African  and  His 

Missionary         ......      366 

Missions  of  the  past — Four  hundred  African  bishop- 
rics in  fifth  century — The  African  explorer — What  does 
the  native  believe  ? — Witchcraft — Can  the  native  be 
taught  to  work  ? — What  the  native  needs — The  fight  at 
Lubwas  Boma  —  What  the  missionary  can  do — The 
kind  of  Christianity  Africa  needs — Why  is  Africa 
becoming  Mohammedan  ? — The  education  of  the  future 
— Hope  for  the  African  missionary. 

XVI.    The  Last  Sefari 417 

Nairobi — Kenia — Hunting  buffalo  and  rhino — Good- 
bye to  Africa. 

APPENDIX    I. 
Notes  on  Personal  Outfit  ....      435 

Clothing — Saddlery — Medicines — Tent — Food. 

APPENDIX  II. 

Notes     on     Animals     and   Where  to  Find 

Them 446 

Localities  in  which  animals  can  be  found. 

APPENDIX  III. 
Lion  Telegrams  457 

APPENDIX  IV. 
Vocabulary  of  African  Words       .        .        .      458 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


My  First  Lion       .....  Frontispiece 


FACING   PAGE 


Map  Showing  Locality  in  which  Game  is  Found      .  xxiv 

Nzoia  Veldt  Lily 6 

Australian  Moon  Flower  (Datura)           ...  6 

Water  Gate  of  Old  Fort,  Mombassa      .         .         .  12 
Ruins  of  Old  Portuguese  Fort  at  Harbour  Entrance, 

Mombassa    .......  12 

Strong  Men  (Porters)  Going  to  Bathe    ...  30 

Hairdressing  Extraordinary.     My  Dandies      .         .  30 

Kikuyu  Porter     .......  30 

In  the  Mau  Forest 56 

The  Grass  is  Long  Beyond  the  Nzoia  (October)      .  56 

What  a  Storm  on  the  Nzoia  Can  Do  to  a  Strong  Tent  70 

First  Lion  of  the  Party,  and  Momba,  the  Gunbearer 

He  Mauled 78 

A  Good  Lion  —  After  a  Good  Ride       ...  94 

A  Laikipia  Lioness       ......  94 

Lion  Cub             .......  94 

Fine  Lioness        .......  94 

Falls  of  the  Athi  River 108 

Water-Buck  on  the  Nzoia     .         .         .         .         .124 

Wild  Dog  Photograph  Taken  at  a  Few  Feet  Distant  124 


XI 


xii  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

FACING  PAGE 

Jackson's  Hartebeest  (Kongoni)     .         .         .         .       124 

Good  Rhino  Head        .          .          .         .          .          .124 

Camp.     Early  Morning         .          .          .          .         .       140 

Camp  at  Eldama  Ravine  on  the  Edge  of  the  Mau 

Forest  .......       140 

Head  Porter  (Wanyamwazi)  .          .         .          .146 

Little  John  Connop,  My  Tent  Boy  .  .  .  146 
Porter.  Winding  His  Blanket  into  a  Turban  Before 

Starting         .          .          .          .          .          .         ^       146 

My  Gunboy         .          .          .          .          .          .         .       146 

My  Gunboy  on  Sefari  .         .         .         .         .150 

The  Toto  —  theTail  of  the  Sefari  .          .         .       150 

David  Rebman,  Headman  on  Both  Trips       .         .       150 
A  Prospective  Feast      .          .          .          .          .         .152 

Crossing  Swampy  Streams,  Look  Out  for  "Crocs"       162 
Elephant  and  N'dorobo,  Beyond  the  Nzoia    .          .       190 
Elephant  Herd     .......       200 

Elephant  Ford  on  the  Nzoia          ....       200 

Massai  Warriors  .          .          .          .          .         .214 

Massai  Women  and  Totos  Outside  Munyata  .       214 

Massai  Moran  Warrior          .          .          .          .         .214 

Some  of  Our  Wakamba  Porters     .          .          .         .       224 

Karamojo  Warriors  —  a  Ten  Minutes'  Halt   .         .       224 
Karamojo  War  Party  ......       224 

Kikuyu  Blacksmith  Making  a  Sword      .          .          .       224 
Elgao  Elephant  Harpoon       .....       232 

Elgao  Spears,  Shield  and  Snuff  Box       .         .         .       232 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xiii 

FACING  PAGE 

N'dorobo    Bow,    Arrows,    Axe-club,    Quiver    and 

Honey  Bottle         ......  232 

Karamojo  Spears  (Sheathed),  Shield  and  Pillow      .  232 

The   Result  of  My   Last  and   Hardest   Ride  —  a 

Cheetah         .......  248 

Naivasha  Lake    .......  260 

Nzoia  River         .......  260 

Mr.  Kenia  from  the  South    .....  276 

Mt.  Kenia  from  the  North 276 

White  Ants'  Nest 280 

Native  Bee  Hives          ......  280 

Good  Buffalo  Head      ......  290 

Buffalo.     An  Old  Bull 290 

Bean  Tree  on  the  Nzoia        .....  304 

A  Thorn  Tree  on  the  Nzoia           ....  304 

Wild  Fig  Tree  on  the  Nzoia  .          .          .          .304 

Euphorbia,  Laikipia  Plateau          ....  304 

Giraffe  running   .......  308 

Giraffe        .          .          .          .  '                .         .         .  308 

Laikipia  Red  Granite  Kopje          .          .          .          .316 

The  Terror  of  the  Sefari       .....  324 

A  Settler's  Beginning   ......  368 

Interior  of  Mengo  Cathedral          ....  368 

Missionary  House  on  Mengo  Hill  Near  Cathedral  .  400 

Forming  a  Living  Chain       .....  430 

Wanyamwazi  Column  Marching  into  Camp   .          .  430 


INTRODUCTION 

OF  BOOKS  on  African  sport  and  travel  truly  there  is  no 
end.  What  excuse  then,  can  I  make  for  adding  another 
to  their  number  ?  Frankly,  my  first  reason  was  the  pleasure 
the  writing  of  these  notes  afforded  me. 

My  memory  has  never  been  a  good  one,  and  after  years 
of  somewhat  hard  work,  I  find,  alas!  it  is  less  and  less 
serviceable.  If  I  wish  to  retain  vivid  impressions  myself 
of  what  seems  worth  remembering,  or  if  I  wish  to  convey 
the  result  of  my  impressions  to  others,  I  find  it  necessary 
to  make  copious  notes  at  the  time.  In  this  way  I  fell  into 
the  habit  of  writing  down  as  I  went  along,  some  account 
of  what  I  saw,  and  sometimes  of  what  I  heard. 

Then  you  cannot  travel  every  day  and  all  day,  in  Africa. 
There  are  long  hot  afternoons  to  be  passed,  and  occasionally 
long  wet  days  to  be  wiled  away,  and  since  it  is  not  always 
easy  to  carry  many  books,  writing  of  some  sort  seems 
the  natural  thing  to  do. 

I  fear  the  results  of  such  a  method  of  writing  will  be  only 
too  apparent  in  these  notes  of  mine.  For  notes  they  were 
in  the  first  instance,  made  on  horseback  (more  accurately, 
mule  back)  as  my  faithful  burden  bearer  walked  soberly 
along,  or  jotted  down  on  my  knee,  as  I  called  my  gunboys 
to  a  halt  under  the  shade  of  some  rock  or  tree,  while  I  did 
my  best  to  put  into  hasty  form,  some  word  sketch  of  the 
strange  or  beautiful  things  before  me.  When  I  sat  down 
more  at  my  leisure,  to  reduce  to  orderly  form  what  I  had 
written,  I  did  not  find  it  always  possible  to  do  so. 

I  can  only,  then,  plead  for  the  indulgence  of  my  reader, 
and  add,  by  way  of  excuse,  that  what  is  here  put  down 
may  claim  at  least  the  merit,  such  as  it  is,  of  being  the 

XV 


xvi  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

result  of  an  effort  to  state  accurately  what  I  saw,  and  at 
the  time  I  saw  it. 

As  to  the  stories  told,  I  have  made  place  for  none  except 
such  as  I  heard  from  men  who  were  themselves  actors  in 
them,  or  else  were  present  when  the  things  they  tell  occurred. 
'The  Railroad  Lion"  stories  are,  of  course,  an  exception, 
and  they  have  been  told  before.  But,  then,  few  Americans 
have  heard  them.  They  are  very  well  authenticated,  and, 
I  think,  deserve  re-telling. 

Then,  again,  I  have  another  reason,  and  one  of  some 
weight.  If  an  Englishman  wants  to  go  to  any  part  of 
Africa,  he  can  probably  find  someone  in  the  next  parish 
who  has  been  there  for  years;  an  American  cannot  so  easily 
get  reliable  information.  I  have  found  it  very  difficult 
to  obtain  the  sort  of  information  I  required.  The  litera- 
ture on  the  subject  is  voluminous.  Africa  always  was 
supremely  interesting  to  me,  and  for  years  I  have  read 
what  I  could  lay  my  hands  on,  as  I  always  hoped,  some  day, 
to  take  the  journeys  I  have  made  within  it.  But  read  as 
I  might,  and  question  many  sportsmen  and  travellers  as 
I  did,  I  found  myself,  once  I  was  in  Africa,  and  had  started 
on  sefari  life  —  very  poorly  informed  indeed. 

One  man  says,  "Go  by  all  means  in  the  wet  season," 
another,  "As  you  value  your  health,  don't  go  in  the  wet 
season  —  go  in  the  dry."  When  is  the  wet  season  ?  Says 
one:  "It  begins  in  March  and  is  over  in  June."  Says 
another:  "It  begins  in  June  and  goes  on  till  September." 
Africa  is  a  hard  country  to  find  the  truth  about  before 
you  come;  and  to  sift  out  the  truth  from  all  abounding 
exaggeration  and  inaccuracy,  when  you  are  there. 

Want  of  accurate  information  wrecked  my  first  expe- 
dition. I  had  a  pleasant  time,  it  is  true,  and  saw  a  great 
deal  of  game;  but  failed  to  go  where  I  wanted  to  go,  or 
get  what  I  most  wanted  to  get. 

Now,  after  a  year's  constant  travel,  during  which  I  have 


INTRODUCTION  xvii 

ridden  and  walked  more  than  five  thousand  miles,  I  really 
think  I  have  some  knowledge  that  is  not  without  its  value — 
about  the  country  —  the  best  place  to  go  for  certain  sorts 
of  game;  the  most  beautiful  and  healthy  parts  of  it; 
the  sort  of  sefari  to  gather  round  you,  and  how  to  control 
and  manage  it,  so  that  your  men  are  contented  and  happy, 
and  the  days  passed  with  your  black  folk  are  a  pleasure 
to  both  yourself  and  them,  and  not  what,  unfortunately, 
they  too  often  are  when  ignorant  or  thoughtless  sports- 
men hurry  their  men  from  point  to  point,  misunderstanding 
and  dislike  increasing  as  they  go.  I  have  learned,  too,  a  good 
deal  about  African  hunting;  how  it  should  be  done  to-day, 
and  that,  I  can  assure  my  reader,  even  if  he  has  hunted 
as  I  have,  in  a  great  many  different  places,  takes  care  and 
time — African  big  game  hunting  is  quite  unlike  any  other. 

These  things  that  I  have  learned  and  seen,  I  have  not 
been  able,  as  I  say,  to  find  in  any  book,  or  gain  from  any 
sportsman.  That  may  have  been  my  fault  or  my  mis- 
fortune, but  the  fact  remains.  I  have  therefore  resolved 
to  publish  the  record  of  them,  being  confident  that  there 
are  others  who  may  wish  to  visit  this  beautiful  country, 
and  who  need  to  gain  all  the  information  they  can  before 
doing  so.  Much  time  and  expense  are  saved  to  the  man 
who  knows  what  he  wants  to  do,  and  has  at  least  some  idea 
of  how  he  intends  to  do  it. 

Some  may,  I  fear,  think  that  I  have  overburdened  my 
story  with  detail;  items  of  outfit;  measurements  of  animals; 
distances  at  which  shots  were  made;  description,  or, 
rather,  attempts  at  description  of  scenery;  or  notes  on  the 
habits  of  little  known  beasts  and  birds.  All  I  can  say  is 
that  I  do  as  I  would  be  done  by,  and  to  the  best  of  a  poor 
ability  put  down  for  others  what  I  wish  heartily  someone 
«lse  had  put  down  for  me. 

But  when  I  have  said  all  this,  I  have  not  yet  mentioned 
my  strongest  reason  for  publishing  anything  about  Africa. 


xviii  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

That  reason  is:  Africa  fascinates  me  as  she  ever  has  those 
who  visit  her.  The  old  Arab  proverb  proved  true  at  least 
in  my  case:  "He  that  hath  drunk  of  Africa's  fountains 
will  drink  again." 

The  first  view  of  southeastern  Africa  is  unattractive  in 
the  extreme.  As  I  made  my  second  visit  to  the  coast  this 
was  again  impressed  on  me.  Three  years  before  our 
"  Messagerie  "  steamer  had  taken  a  course  close  in  shore 
and  day  after  day  one  gazed  on  those  mountainous  sun 
scorched  sand  dunes,  where  no  blade  of  grass  grew,  that 
seemed  to  hiss  and  sizzle  in  the  heat  as  the  blue  waves 
washed  them.  Now  and  then  a  faint  curl  of  smoke  marked 
where  some  Somali  camel  herder  or  fisherman  had  pitched 
his  black  tent,  that  through  the  glass  might  be  seen  clinging 
like  a  black  snail  to  the  yellow  ground.  One  of  the  English 
civil  servants  on  board,  who  had  been  stationed  for  some 
time  on  the  Juba  River,  which  divides  British  East  Africa 
from  Italian  Somaliland,  told  me  that  a  boat's  party  who 
landed  on  these  Somali  sandbanks  would  have  their  throats 
cut  in  half  an  hour.  Sincerely  he  pitied  the  Italians  for 
having  such  a  dangerous  and  unprofitable  colony,  and 
thanked  God  that  the  Juba  marked  the  British  line. 

On  the  second  trip  the  barren  unfriendliness  of  the  Somali 
coast  was  illustrated  afresh.  Our  German  steamer  called 
at  Naples,  and  then  took  aboard  sixteen  Italian  officers. 
The  company  undertook  to  land  this  party  at  Mogadicio, 
which  was  somewhat  out  of  the  usual  course,  and  thus  we 
came  to  make  a  call  at  a  little  port  seldom  visited. 

The  officers  were  charming  gentlemen,  as  Italian  officers 
usually  are.  Picked  men,  too,  for  their  business  was  no 
sinecure.  The  Somali  under  (or  supposed  to  be  under) 
Italian  rule  had,  as  they  love  to  do,  made  trouble,  and  had 
cut  up  a  large  party  of  askaris,*  killing  some  two  hundred 

*NatiTc  soldier.     The  askari  on  Sefari  life,  is  above  a  porter,  and  under  the  head  man.     He 
carries  no  load  (ordinarily)  but  is  armed,  carries  your  messages,  and  guards  camp  at  night. 


INTRODUCTION  xix 

men  and  several  officers.  Our  fellow  voyagers  were  commis- 
sioned to  take  the  places  of  the  slain,  and  to  reorganize 
and  stiffen  the  native  soldiers.  They  have  no  European 
troops  on  the  coast,  and  were  wholly  dependent  on  what, 
I  fear,  was  a  rather  poor  quality  of  native;  to  beat  back, 
in  the  first  place,  and  then  reduce  to  order,  the  rebellious 
Somali  —  they  surely  were  not  to  be  envied.  The  mon- 
soon was  only  beginning,  but  already  the  big  blue  white- 
capped  rollers  were  thundering  full  into  the  unprotected 
mouth  of  what  was  really  no  harbour  at  all.  A  small 
coasting  steamer,  and  some  dhows,  reared  and  tore  at 
their  anchors,  as  though  they  would  wrench  their  bows 
out.  And  landing  our  friends,  their  scanty  supply  of  am- 
munition and  stores,  as  well  as  their  mules,  taxed  evidently 
the  resources  of  the  place — as  well  as  those  of  the  crew. 
The  leaky  undecked  dhow  that  came  off  for  them,  leaped 
up  and  down  alongside.  The  mules  had,  of  course,  to  be 
slung,  and  popped  down  into  the  hollow  of  the  dhow 
just  at  the  right  moment.  The  hold  would  be  full  of  shout- 
ing, gesticulating  naked  men,  being  shot  up  into  the  air, 
when  down  would  plump  among  them  a  very  bewildered 
mule,  dropped  sharply  by  the  donkey  engine.  When  there 
were  a  lot  of  mules  in  that  narrow  hold,  as  well  as  a  crowd 
of  men,  it  seemed  nothing  short  of  wonderful  that  every- 
thing and  everybody  was  not  kicked  to  pieces.  And  the 
rotten  boat  itself  was  so  leaky  that  it  looked  as  though 
the  turmoil  within  it  would  make  it  founder.  Charming 
men,  and,  no  doubt,  good  officers,  those  Italians  were. 
But  who  could  help  feeling  sorry  for  them,  dropped  down 
in  a  little  open  port,  into  which  no  steamer  could  enter 
till  the  monsoon  blew  on,  that  is,  in  three  or  four  months' 
time.  Tl^jy  could  not  receive  mails  or  reinforcements 
by  sea,  and  on  land  the  Somali  had  so  infested  and  harassed 
the  place,  that  no  mail  runner  had  got  through  from  Juba 
for  months. 


xx  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Italian  Somaliland  is  a  country  surely  not  worth  fighting 
for,  not  worth  the  blood  of  one  honest  patient  Italian 
soldier  or  officer,  and  yet  since  her  flag  has  been  raised 
over  its  barren  waterless  wilderness,  Italy  seems  unwilling 
to  haul  it  down.  But  if  she  will  not  take  this  course, 
then  most  surely  she  will  shortly  have  to  send  from  her 
shores  expeditions  of  another  sort,  than  that  one  which 
the  Gertrude  landed.  Our  friends  were  so  hastily  dispatched 
that  they  had  not  even  sun  helmets,  but  had  to  search  Port 
Said,  after  midnight  too  (for  the  steamer  made  a  late 
landing),  for  such  poor  substitutes  for  headgear  as  its 
shoddy  shop  could  supply. 

Mogadicio  was  under  the  Muskat  Arabs  an  important 
town;  but  it  has  sunk  into  insignificance.  The  squalid 
little  place,  with  its  apology  for  a  port,  is  a  mere  huddle 
of  whitewashed  mud  houses,  crowding  close  down  to  the 
sea.  It  has  no  safe  anchorage,  soon  as  the  monsoon 
begins  to  blow,  and  no  good  water. 

A  high  sand-dune  back  of  the  town  is  crowned  by  a  small 
lighthouse.  Here  some  earthworks  have  been  thrown 
up,  and  the  Italians  have  placed  small  shell  guns,  taken 
from  one  of  their  gunboats  on  the  coast,  in  position. 

The  thorn  scrub  which  covers  the  country  at  a  short 
distance  from  the  sea,  has  been  cleared  away  for  a  couple 
of  thousand  yards  from  the  muzzles  of  the  guns;  and  for 
just  that  distance,  and  no  more,  life  is  pretty  safe  round  the 
place.  Beyond  it  patrols  were  cut  up. 

We  drank  to  our  friends'  health  and  success  at  dinner, 
and  bade  them  good-bye  with  sincere  regret.  Far  away 
from  home  and  friends  and  support,  they  took  up  the 
thankless  work  assigned  them,  with  that  light-hearted 
courage  that  has  so  well  served  their  fatherland  during 
the  long  dark  days,  now  we  hope  forever  over. 

But  as  I  saw  the  last  of  them  go  down  the  ship's  side, 
I  couldn't  but  feel  that  someone  had  blundered.  That 


INTRODUCTION  xxii 

they  should  have  come  with  far  greater  reserves  of  men 
and  supplies,  or  not  come  at  all. 

After  days  of  slow  coasting  close  to  the  sun-baked 
dunes,  where  the  sparse  brushwood,  when  it  did  show 
in  their  hollows,  seemed  burned  black,  the  somewhat 
shabby  greenery  of  the  coast  line  near  Mombassa  is  a  relief 
to  the  eye.  But  the  cocoanut  palms  are  short  and  be- 
draggled —  and  the  tangle,  that  descends  to  the  very  surf,, 
looks  decayed  and  unhealthy. 

As  the  big  rollers  came  in  before  the  monsoons,  and 
broke  in  creamy  spray  on  the  dark  rocks,  I  seemed  to  see 
another  coast  line  far  away.  There  little  headlands  of 
red  rock  are  covered  with  pines  twisted  and  bent  by  many 
a  winter  storm.  Between  them  lie  curving  sandy  bays,, 
to  whose  smooth  yellow  edges  delicious  meadows  come 
sweeping  down,  purple  and  white  with  clover  and  mar- 
guerites. Surely  Swinburne  must  have  dreamed  of  a. 
Maine  or  New  England  shore  in  springtime  when  he 
wrote  those  matchlessly  beautiful  lines: 

"Where  waves  of  grass  break  into  foam  of  flowers 
Where  the  wind's  white  feet  shine  along  the  sea." 

Africa's  coast  line  seems  sad  and  dark  to  me. 

Mombassa  has  probably  been  besieged,  stormed,  sacked,, 
and  burnt,  oftener  in  a  short  time,  than  any  other  place 
on  the  globe.  Look  where  you  will,  you  see  signs  of  ancient 
warfare.  Rusty  Portuguese  guns  thrust  their  muzzles 
forth  from  the  jungle,  and  close  down  to  the  water,  the 
ruins  of  strongly  built  batteries  still  hold  their  own  against 
the  destruction  of  climate  and  creeper. 

The  citadel,  finely  placed,  overlooks  the  port. 

How  did  they  manage  to  build  such  a  place,  those  few 
ill-supported  white  men  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth 
centuries  ?  How  much  one  would  give  to  know  something 
more  about  them!  They  were  few.  They  were  far 


xxii  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

far  from  all  sources  of  succour  and  supply  —  surrounded 
by  utter  barbarism  and  in  a  land  where  the  deadly  fever 
daily  sapped  the  strength  of  the  strongest.  Yet  they  made 
a  bold  bid  for  Empire. 

It  would  sometimes  be  well,  if  the  Anglo-Saxon  remem- 
bered, that  others  than  he  and  his,  have  paid  heavily 
for  the  rule  of  the  sea  —  paid  and  lost. 

"If  blood  is  the  price  of  admiralty"  —  as  Kipling 
says  —  the  Portuguese  "have  paid  it  well/' 

Look  at  the  main  fort.  It  is  larger  and  incomparably 
stronger  than  the  original  citadel  Montcalm  held  for 
France.  Built  so  solidly  that  even  to-day  its  bastions 
would  for  a  time  withstand  artillery. 

An  old  tradition  has  it,  its  mortar  was  mixed  with  human 
blood,  and,  indeed,  the  loss  of  life  in  building  such  a  place 
must  have  been  enormous.  Forced  labour  was  employed, 
for,  from  Pharaoh's  time  onward,  none  has  taken  any  ac- 
count of  the  labourer  in  Africa. 

They  were  cruel  men,  those  Portuguese  adventurers, 
as  were  most  of  the  men  of  their  time.  Perhaps  even 
more  heedless  of  human  life  than  their  fellows.  But 
surely  they  were  strongest  of  the  strong.  They  had  their 
short  day,  and  though  its  sun  soon  set,  they  accomplished 
much  in  it.  Their  King  Henry,  the  navigator,  half  an 
Englishman,  be  it  remembered  —  for  his  mother  was 
daughter  of  "Old  John  of  Gaunt,  time  honoured  Lan- 
caster," led  them  in  the  very  van  of  discovery.  But  Africa 
proved  fatal  to  Portugal.  In  the  northern  part  of  that 
continent  —  in  Morocco — she  strove  hard  to  found  an 
empire;  and  there,  far  inland,  worn  down  by  thirst 
and  lost  in  sand  drift,  the  adventurous  young  King  Se- 
bastian, aged  but  twenty-three,  fell  on  one  disastrous  day, 
with  the  youth  of  his  little  kingdom  round  him,  and  from 
that  overwhelming  calamity  Portugal  never  quite  recovered. 

Then  in  the  southeast,  for  many  a  long  year  after  her 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

disaster  in  the  north,  Portugal  continued  to  pour  out  blood 
and  treasure.  Here,  in  briefest  outline,  is  the  story  of 
the  town.  Vasco  de  Gama  anchored  off  Mombassa, 
April  7,  1498,  and  Camoen,  writing  of  the  town  as  it  then 
was,  says,  on  "it's  sea-board-frontage"  were  to  be  seen 
"noble  edifices  fairly  planned."  In  1505  the  Portuguese 
fleet  attacked  the  place  and  the  town  was  stormed.  The 
Arabs  retook  it,  and  in  1528  Mombassa  was  stormed  and 
burned  for  the  second  time. 

In  1585  Turkish  Corsairs  drove  out  the  Portuguese  again, 
carrying  off  plunder  to  the  value  of  £600,000  (a  great  sum 
for  those  days)  and  fifty  Portuguese  prisoners.  Portugal 
retook  it  in  1586  and  lost  it  again  to  the  Corsairs  in  1588. 

In  1592  Portugal  returned  in  overwhelming  force,  con- 
quered all  the  neighbouring  towns,  stormed  Mombassa, 
and  made  it  the  capital  of  East  Africa. 

The  great  citadel  was  commenced  in  1593.  See  inscrip- 
tion inside  the  porch. 

In  1631  all  the  Portuguese  in  Mombassa  were  murdered 
in  an  Arab  rising,  led  by  an  Arab  whom  they  had  sent  to 
Goa  to  be  educated  and  baptized,  and  who  had  married 
a  Portuguese  lady. 

A  punitive  expedition  drove  him  out  —  but  not  till  he 
had  dismantled  the  fort  and  burned  the  town. 

1635.  The  fort  was  repaired.  (See  inscription  over 
sally  port.) 

1660.  An  Arab  fleet  sailed  from  Muscat  to  aid  the 
inhabitants  to  throw  off  the  intolerable  yoke  of  Portugal's 
tyranny.  The  town  was  now  constantly  attacked  by  the 
Arabs  till  1696,  when  the  great  siege  began.  An  Arab 
fleet  entered  the  harbour  March  I5th,  and  the  population 
of  the  island,  black  and  European,  which  had  been  much 
reduced  by  constant  warfare,  took  refuge  in  the  citadel. 
There  were,  in  all,  2,500. 

A  relieving  fleet  was  driven  off. 


xxiv  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

January,  1697,  the  plague  broke  out  in  the  garrison  — 
and  by  July  236.  there  remained  but  the  Commandant, 
nine  Swahili,  fifty  native  women,  and  the  king  of  a  neigh- 
bouring tribe  —  Faza. 

The  Commandant  died  August  24th  — yet  the  desperate 
remnant  somehow  managed  to  keep  the  Arabs  out  for 
three  weeks. 

A  relieving  fleet  came  in  September,  and  150  Portuguese 
soldiers  and  300  Indian  mercenaries  were  thrown  into  the 
place  —  then  the  grip  of  the  besiegers  closed  on  it  again. 

For  fifteen  months  longer  this  almost  unparalleled  struggle 
went  on,  till  December  12,  1698,  when  the  Arabs  at  last 
stormed.  The  garrison,  reduced  to  eleven  men  and  two 
women,  was  too  feeble  to  offer  serious  resistance,  and  all 
were  slaughtered. 

1699,  1703,  1710.  Portuguese  expeditions  tried  to 
retake  Mombassa  and  failed.  What  a  story  of  tenacity, 
cruelty,  and  courage  it  is!  —  and  scarcely  one  memorial 
of  it  save  the  yellow  crumbling  citadel,  and  its  deep  moat 
hewn  with  infinite  labour  from  the  coral  rock,  remains. 

Dense  tropic  tangle  and  the  carelessness  of  the  East 
have  combined  to  wipe  out  almost  entirely  the  scanty 
memorials  of  the  great  past  —  even  the  graves  of  the 
brave  dead  of  those  old  days  are  now  lost  and  forgotten. 
Arab  and  Portuguese  alike,  no  one  knows  where  they  lie. 

One  of  the  most  intelligent  Arabs  in  Mombassa  —  one 
too,  who  claims  descent  from  the  conquering  Sultans  who, 
drove  the  Portuguese  out  —  and  for  so  long  reigned  in  their 
stead  —  gravely  assured  me  that  there  never  were  any 
Portuguese  graves  —  as  they  always  buried  their  dead  at 
sea.  He  was  equally  ignorant  as  to  where  his  own  con- 
quering ancestors,  who  fell  before  the  place,  lay. 


'  v™al  <Lj>  ! 

\.H  a: 


GERMAN   EAST   AFRICA 


MAP 

^       SHOWING   LOCALITY 
I  IN  WHICH  GAME  IS  FOUND 

;'.:=  Scale  of  Miles 


0    5   10       20        30       40       50 

1   Tracks  of  Dr.  Kains ford's  travels 


> 


4c  *» 

(WLorpgi 


arfqnrw/W  V^ 

.»  '-<  ':••••'•  &i"|\^  i'  -; 

1      Onaoie)  '\    ,-•- 

S  vy  w?^!,     >^ 

'-      u*       *  ';Xx         ,#• 
*     C/.  /        * 


Giiasoj^i>0 
/  /^7gu«alo~ 


W^   ""'^   >^-vW 

Ngonfo  BagasAfr^i 


Longitude  E.nt  from  Greenwich 


YTIJA  >OJ    Or 
ZWl  81  MlfAO  ilJ 

• 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 


The  Land  of  the  Lion 

CHAPTER  I 
MOMBASSA  TO  LION  LAND 


scenery  on  the  Uganda  railroad,  between  the  sea 
A  and  Nairobi,  is  often  picturesque  and  interesting. 
I  shall  not,  however,  dwell  on  its  features,  as  these  have 
been  described  time  without  number.  But  one  view 
there  is  of  Mount  Kilimanjaro  which  with  good  fortune 
may  be  seen,  and  of  it  I  want  to  speak. 

The  through  express  train  from  Mombassa  to  the 
lake,  if  it  is  on  time,  passes  near  enough  to  the  mountain 
to  afford  that  view.  Just  before  sunrise  I  had  been  told 
to  look  out  of  the  left  hand  carriage  window,  at  about 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  see  what  I  could  see  — 
and  what  I  saw  that  clear  morning  three  years  ago,  I 
shall  never  forget. 

All  around  was  the  dark  plain  illumined  only  by  the 
stars,  for  there  was  no  moon.  It  was  about  quarter-past 
five,  when  to  southward  I  saw  a  vast  pink  column,  flat- 
tened on  the  top,  that  rose  distinctly  against  the  dusky 
purple  sky.  Redder  and  redder  it  grew,  as  the  first  sun- 
beam touched  its  snows,  and  then  at  its  base,  the  fringe 
of  wooded  mountains  showed  in  the  earliest  light  of  the 
coming  dawn.  Kilimanjaro  is  more  than  nineteen  thousand 
feet  high,  and  that  morning  it  seemed  to  have  all  the  won- 
derful sunrise  glory  to  itself  for  quite  a  long  time,  while  still 
the  veldt  at  its  feet  lay  in  the  darkness.  Just  that  column 
of  pink,  changing  to  scarlet  —  and  nothing  else  to  tell 

3 


4  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

of  the  sun,  not  yet  risen,  on  a  far  lower,  and  more  common- 
place world.  Great  mountains  are  usually  so  surrounded 
by  gradually  rising  country  that  they  are  robbed  somewhat 
of  their  height.  Kilimanjaro,  however,  rises  sheer  from  a 
plain  only  two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea  —  and  over 
these  levels  it  towers  superbly.  Like  all  African  mountains 
it  is  broadly  belted  by  forest.  Above  this  it  lifts  itself  in 
this  one  mighty  cone,  whose  steep  sides  and  flattened 
summit,  no  less  than  fourteen  miles  across,  are  covered 
with  perpetual  snow. 

Half  an  hour  after  sunrise  the  rising  mists  of  the  wood- 
lands have  closely  woven  their  swathing  veils  around  it. 
The  mountain  has  vanished,  and  you  can  scarcely  persuade 
yourself,  as  you  jolt  over  the  dazzling  plain,  that  the  vision 
of  an  hour  ago  was  more  than  a  dream. 

I  have  often  seen  Kilimanjaro  since  then,  but  never 
as  I  saw  it  first,  during  that  half  hour  before  the  sun- 
rising.  In  full  daylight  its  height  and  bulk  are  imposing, 
though  few,  I  think,  would  hold  it  remarkable  for  its  beauty, 
But  the  mystery  and  magic  of  that  crimsoning  column, 
rising  out  of  utter  darkness  against  the  morning  sky,  was 
alone  worth  a  long  journey  —  and  I  shall  never  forget  it. 

Nairobi,  the  capital  of  the  Protectorate,  is  more  than 
three  hundred  miles  from  the  sea,  and  stands  at  an  altitude 
of  nearly  six  thousand  feet.  The  site  was  mistakenly  chosen 
without  doubt,  and  the  native  town,  as  well  as  the  shop 
and  bazaar  lie  too  low,  and  are  not  easy  to  drain.  But 
Nairobi  has  one  charm  that  should  not  be  denied  it.  That 
is  the  fine  broad  well  metalled  main  street  that  runs  for  more 
than  a  mile  straight  from  the  railroad  depot  to  the  Norfolk 
Hotel. 

I  cannot  fancy  any  other  mile  of  roadway  in  semi- 
civilized  Africa  so  interesting.  Farmers,  Boers,  civil 
officers,  and  soldiers  very  smartly  dressed,  in  well-fitting 
canvas  or  khaki,  and  last,  but  by  no  means  least,  the 


MOMBASSA  TO  LION  LAND  5 

rare  Englishwoman,  far  more  admired  and  petted  here 
than  she  ever  is  at  home,  in  every  sort  of  dress  and 
undress  (a  renowned  English  politician  on  his  recent 
visit,  made  mortal  enemies  of  many  of  them,  in  that  playful, 
if  not  always  kindly  way  he  seems  to  have,  by  admitting 
their  good  looks,  but  describing  their  dressing  as 
"dowdy")  and  on  every  sort  of  "mount'* — pony,  mule, 
donkey,  bicycle,  in  'rickshaw  or  wagon,  motor-car  or 
camel  cart  —  pass  ceaselessly  up  and  down. 

But  you  come  to  see  the  brown  and  the  black  man  — 
and  nowhere  will  you  find  him  in  greater  variety  —  many 
tribes  and  races  here  throng  together. 

Arab  and  Somali  traders  are  here,  some  of  them 
knowing  more  of  inmost  Africa  than  any  white  man  alive. 
Hindu  merchants  and  shopkeepers,  among  the  least  honest 
of  the  earth.  Wanyamwazi  porters — whose  homes  are 
in  far-away  German  East  Africa;  many  of  them  would 
fain  change  from  a  German  to  an  English  overlordship 
if  they  could;  but  the  German  hand  reaches  far  and 
grips  tightly,  and  they  love  their  distant  cattle  —  and, 
let  us  hope,  their  wives,  and  these  the  Germans  take 
great  care  of  in  their  absence  —  and  so  German  natives 
they  are  fated  to  remain. 

Then  you  come  across  hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
Kikuyus,  for  this  is  their  country,  and  all  the  rich  shambas* 
of  the  neighbourhood,  European  or  native,  are  tilled  by 
them.  Most  of  the  natives  in  the  motley  throng  are  on 
pleasure  bent.  These  Kikuyus  are  not  like  the  rest, 
a  casual  glance  at  them  is  enough  to  convince  you  they 
are  no  idlers.  Up  and  down  the  streets  they  trudge 
with  their  burdens,  quite  as  many  women  as  men. 
They  are  the  moneymakers  of  this  part  of  the  Protectorate. 

There  is  movement  and  colour  everywhere.  Smart 
black  women,  often  with  very  fine  figures,  in  their  most 

*Name  for  farm. 


6  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

picturesque  cotton  togas,  stand  in  groups  at  many  a  corner, 
laughing  and  chaffing  the  idle  native  porter  as  he  saunters 
by,  while  hundreds  of  their  more  virtuous  (let  us  hope) 
and  much  more  naked  sisters,  stand  in  companies  or 
squat  on  the  ground  outside  some  Indian's  store  or  con- 
tractor's office,  a  black  baby  in  an  unspeakably  oily  bag 
at  their  breast,  and  sixty  pounds  of  mealy  meal,  tightly 
bagged,  slung  by  a  headstrap,  and  carried  low  down 
behind  their  shoulders.  Yes,  I  never  can  get  tired  of 
sauntering  in  Nairobi  main  street. 

The  Europeans  whose  bungalows  dot  the  wooded  hills 
that  on  two  sides  surround  the  town,  have  a  fine  view 
over  the  Athi  plains.  With  Zeiss  glass  it  is  still  possible 
to  see  immense  herds  of  game  —  harte  beste,  zebra,  gnu, 
Grant's  and  Thompson's  gazelles  —  feeding.  Thirty  miles 
away  stands  Donyea  Sabuk  —  a  partly  wooded  precipitous 
hill;  rising  some  three  thousand  feet,  and  round  its  base  — 
within  a  circle  of  a  few  miles,  I  suppose  it  is  no  exaggera- 
tion to  say,  that  twenty  white  men  have  been  killed  or 
mauled  by  lions. 

The  flowers  in  Nairobi  are  a  delightful  surprise  and 
wonder.  Even  in  the  dusty  streets  of  the  town  they  are 
plentiful.  In  poky  little  ill-kept  gardens,  or  on  unsightly 
corrugated  iron  roofs  they  climb  and  twine.  When  some 
pains  are  taken  with  them,  and  they  are  tended  and  watered 
in  drought,  they  bloom  and  flourish  as  Italian  roses  do, 
only  instead  of  blooming  as  these,  for  a  few  weeks  only, 
at  Nairobi  roses  bloom  nine  months  in  the  year.  Roses, 
passion  flowers,  pomegranates,  orange  trees,  Bougainvillea, 
and  many  more,  make  scores  of  cheap  little  houses  seem 
bowers  of  delight. 

Even  along  the  unsightly  paths  that  always  struggle 
into  a  frontier  town,  rare  and  beautiful  flowers  sometimes 
surprise  you,  growing  luxuriantly  in  front  of  many  a 
mere  hut. 


MOMBASSA  TO  LION  LAND  7 

Having  now  reached  Nairobi,  the  usual  starting 
point  for  sefaris,  I  may  as  well  try  in  a  few  words,  to 
give  some  general  idea  of  the  country,  and  especially 
of  that  part  of  it,  where  the  best  scenery  and  best  hunting 
are  to  be  found. 

A  volcanic  upheaval  has  raised  a  wide  plateau  in  East 
Africa  far  above  the  level  of  the  continent.  Roughly 
speaking,  that  plateau  runs  three  hundred  miles  east  and 
west.  It  begins  about  two  hundred  miles  from  the  sea, 
and  slopes  down  on  the  west  to  Lake  Victoria.  North  it 
falls  away  toward  Abyssinia  and  Italian  Somaliland. 

In  the  middle  it  is  divided  by  a  huge  cleft,  the  great 
Rift  Valley  (the  eastern  end  of  this  valley  is  called  the 
Kedong)  and  in  this  valley  lie  a  string  of  lakes  —  Naivasha, 
the  most  easterly;  Rudolph,  the  most  westerly;  Nukurn  and 
Baringo  lying  between.  The  Rift  Valley  is  well  named. 
It  is  a  mighty  crack  in  the  world  crust,  running,  as  geologists 
have  traced  it,  all  the  way  from  Lake  Rudolph  to  the 
Jordan  Valley  and  the  Dead  Sea.  On  either  side  of  this 
valley  rise  two  lofty  chains  of  mountains.  On  the  western 
side  these  are  called  the  Mau  Escarpment;  on  the  east  the 
Kikuyu  Escarpment  and  the  Aberdare  Range.  Moun- 
tainous branches  and  spurs  from  these  ranges  run  back 
into  the  plains  to  west  and  east  —  and  two  fine  mountains 
standing  far  out  from  the  tumult  of  tumbled  and  crossing 
ridges,  dominate  all  other  mountain  peaks.  These  are 
Elgon  on  the  west,  looking  down  on  Lake  Victoria,  and 
beautiful,  lonely  snowy  Kenia,  rising  above  the  wide 
Laikipia  plateau  on  the  east.  I  shall  speak  of  Kenia 
later.  Now  our  faces  are  set  toward  the  high  table  lands 
lying  beyond  the  forest  of  the  Mau.  Here  but  three  years 
ago  entrance  to  the  traveller  and  sportsman  was  forbidden. 
The  Nandi,  a  numerous  and  warlike  tribe,  were  in  process 
of  being  chastened.  Several  hundreds  of  them  were 
killed,  their  crops  burned  and  many  of  their  cattle  taken 


8  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

from  them  and  sold.  The  discipline  was  severe,  but  it 
seems  to  have  been  most  necessary.  So  far  as  the  natives 
are  concerned  these  plateaus  are  now  as  safe  as  Central 
Park,  and  there  are  probably  more  lions  there  than  in  any 
other  part  of  Africa. 

One  hundred  and  forty  miles  from  Kilimanjaro,  and  some 
thirty  from  Nairobi,  another  view  of  surpassing  interest 
suddenly  bursts  on  you.  It  is  the  first  peep  into  the  very 
heart  of  a  bit  of  primeval  African  forest  —  and  it,  too, 
to  be  had,  from  the  cushioned  seat  of  the  railway  carriage. 

Shortly  before  reaching  Escarpment  station  (Es- 
carpment in  British  East  Africa  means  a  steep  line  of 
sharply  defined  mountainous  country)  the  road  begins 
to  plunge  downward.  The  zigzags  are  very  sharp,  and 
the  torrent  beds  are  far  below.  Here  a  dense  belt  of 
forest  country,  stretching  many  miles  to  north  and  west, 
has  to  be  traversed,  and,  as  I  said,  you  can  have  your  first 
glance  into  the  impenetrable,  inextricably  interwoven 
masses  of  all  kinds  of  greenery  that,  matted  and  twisted 
together,  make  up  the  living  wall  of  the  African  wood. 

In  such  cover  man's  progress  is  only  to  be  achieved 
by  the  hardest  sort  of  work.  The  ponderous  elephant 
alone  moves  there  at  will,  breaking  and  bending  as  he 
pleases  everything  in  his  way.  And  when  the  wild  man 
passes  he  passes  only  by  the  paths  the  elephant  has  made. 

You  may  travel  or  hunt  for  a  long  time  in  the  country 
and  yet  never  really  get  such  a  good  idea  of  the  quality 
of  the  forest  as  you  can  from  the  train.  On  foot  or  on 
horseback  such  jungle  is  always  avoidable.  It  is  most 
dangerous  to  hunt  in,  and  the  noise  that  even  a  naked 
N'dorobo  (wild  man)  must  make  is  enough  to  disturb  the 
game.  Look,  now,  right  down  into  its  labyrinth  of  tree 
stems  and  creeper.  Into  its  cool  damp  glades,  into  chasms 
cloven  by  yearly  torrents  whose  rocky  sides  are  clothed 
many  yards  deep  with  densest  hangings  of  tropic  tangle. 


MOMBASSA  TO  LION  LAND  9 

Here  and  there  streams  tinkle  far  below,  as  a  viaduct 
lifts  you  above  the  tree-tops  standing  massed  together 
in  some  dark  ravine.  From  a  high  embankment  you  see 
right  in  among  the  straight  forest  stems,  and  can  mark 
the  massy  green  herbage  that  mounts  up  and  up  them, 
throwing  stout  climbing  ladders  over  the  wide  spreading 
lower  boughs. 

Were  you  on  foot,  the  upper  world  of  the  land  that 
lies  now  all  open  to  you  would  be  completely  or  almost 
completely  hidden,  and  your  path  would  twist  amid  dark 
and  damp  herbage,  that,  arching  far  overhead,  left  you  in 
deep  shade.  Now,  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  you  make 
above  the  forest  a  progress  that  on  foot  would  have  taken 
you  days  of  heartbreaking  struggle. 

You  are,  indeed,  seeing  what  you  may  not  see  again. 
On  sefari  you  will  avoid  such  difficulties  —  no  band  of 
stout  Wanyamwazi  porters  you  may  command  could  hope 
successfully  to  struggle  with  them.  Your  trail  will  go 
when  need  be,  many  a  long  mile  round,  rather  than  attempt 
the  passage  of  so  much  as  one-half  mile  of  it,  unless,  for 
some  reason,  there  is  no  way  round,  or  a  road  has  been 
already  cut  through. 

For  a  little  while  the  train  now  winds  in  and  out  amid 
these  sombre  haunts  of  the  elephant,  then,  suddenly,  as 
you  rush  round  a  corner,  the  glowing,  sunlit  Rift  Valley 
opens  right  underneath  you.  The  contrast  is  dazzling. 
Here,  indeed,  is  Africa.  Shade  so  dense  that  the  tropic 
sun  never  gains  an  entrance,  and  sunlight  so  intense  you 
soon  want  to  rest  your  eyes,  and  so  turn  them  on  the  long 
strips  of  woodland  that  come  tumbling  down  almost  two 
thousand  feet  to  meet  the  plain. 

The  Kedong  Valley  (it  forms  the  nearer  end  of  the 
great  Rift  Valley)  must  be,  I  think,  quite  unlike  any  other 
in  the  world.  To  attempt  to  describe  it  is  beyond  any 
modest  powers  of  mine.  The  canon  of  the  Yellowstone 


io  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

River  —  where  the  sun  shines  full  into  it  —  is  a  marvellous 
bit  of  colour.  But  here  the  colours  are  as  brilliant,  and  yet 
have  the  softness  that  the  chasm  of  our  mountain  river 
lacks.  One  of  Turner's  magic  sunsets,  transferred  from 
sea  to  land,  would  alone  give  an  idea  of  its  iridescent 
splendour.  I  fancy  the  clouds  formed  by  the  steep  escarp- 
ments that  shut  the  valley  in  on  either  side  are  partly 
the  cause. 

During  the  night  African  forests  breed  clouds  all  their 
own.  The  dense  moisture  floats  off  slowly  in  the  morning 
sun,  clinging  to  the  tree-tops  as  it  rises,  and  forming  clouds 
heavy  enough  to  hold  together  till  almost  midday.  On 
both  sides  of  this  glowing  valley  these  cloud-forming 
forest  ridges  rise  for  more  than  two  thousand  feet,  and 
from  them,  let  the  wind  blow  where  it  will,  during  the 
morning  hours  at  least,  the  drifting  vapours  will  partly 
shade  the  plain.  Through  these  breaks,  the  sun,  lighting 
up  broad  stretches  of  corn  yellow  grass  land,  shining 
on  purple  woods  pushing  down  the  steep  incline,  and  on 
all  the  tossed  and  broken  masses  of  ridge  and  valley, 
heaved  up  ages  ago,  when  this  vast  chasm  yawned  open 
in  a  cooling  crust. 

Colour  everywhere.  Colour  changing,  shifting.  Colour 
on  the  red-brown  cones  of  two  long  extinct  volcanoes, 
that  must  have  bubbled  forth  lava  thousands  of  years 
after  the  valley's  floor  had  grown  firm.  Colour  on  the  great 
volcanic  rocks  that  seam  their  sides,  and  over  which  the 
greenery  of  the  tropics  has  not  yet  had  time  to  weave  its 
mantle  and  colour  at  last  far  away  down  the  glowing 
valley,  caught  up  and  flashed  upward  from  Naivasha 
Lake. 

Up  and  down  the  Kedong  Valley  in  pre-railroad  days 
—  that  is  to  say,  not  ten  years  ago  —  passed  much 
of  such  commerce  as  there  then  was  between  the  great 
lakes  and  the  sea.  Here  tribe  clashed  with  tribe.  The 


MOMBASSA  TO  LION  LAND  n 

Massai  who  claimed  the  country  having  usually  the  better 
of  it.  And  rival  caravans  struggled  for  slaves  and  ivory. 
Here,  too,  only  a  few  years  ago,  an  English  adventurer, 
named  Dick,  was  with  all  his  men  wiped  out  by  the  Massai. 
So  far  as  is  known,  the  tragedy  came  about  in  this  way. 
A  Swahili  sefari,  coming  back  from  a  trading  expedition, 
and  "feeling  good"  as  they  neared  the  end  of  the  journey, 
celebrated  the  homeward  march  by  blowing  their  horns 
and  beating  their  drums.  This  unusual  noise  raised 
pandemonium  among  the  Massai  herds,  which  were  gath- 
ered in  great  numbers  in  the  neighbourhood.  The  Massai 
say  they  sent  messengers  to  tell  the  Swahili  to  stop  the 
racket,  and  to  go  quietly  through  the  land.  Whether  the 
Swahili  received  the  order  or  whether  they  understood  it 
will  never  be  known.  In  any  case,  they  went  noisily  on, 
and  the  Massai  attacked  and  speared  them  to  a  man. 
Dick,  with  a  small  sefari,  happened  to  be  close  behind 
the  Swahili  caravan,  and  for  some  reason  or  other,  soon  as 
he  heard  of  the  slaughter,  at  once  attacked  the  Massai. 
The  Massai  seemed  to  have  tried  to  avoid  righting;  but 
Dick,  a  man  of  desperate  courage  and  a  good  shot,  opened 
a  deadly  fire  on  them,  and  in  a  few  minutes  had  killed 
twenty.  Then  his  rifle  jammed,  or  some  accident  hap- 
pened, and  he  fell,  speared  in  the  back.  The  Massai 
declare  he  killed  several  with  his  clubbed  rifle.  His  grave 
is  on  the  hill  close  by,  and  still  the  Massai  call  the  place, 
"The  grave  of  the  English  lion"  (simba  ulya).  Skulls 
still  thickly  strew  the  kopje  where  he  made  his  last  stand. 

At  4.30  A.  M.  of  a  bitterly  cold  September  morning, 
we  came  to  a  stop  at  the  little  railroad  station  of  Londiani 
—  more  than  one  hundred  miles  west  of  Nairobi.  It  was 
pitch  dark,  and  the  hundred  and  ten  men  that  composed 
our  motley  array  huddled  miserably  under  their  blankets 
on  the  platform.  A  very  unreliable  railroad  lamp  here 


12  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

and  there,  served  only  to  reveal  the  confused  piles  of  tents, 
boxes,  guns,  fodder,  and  all  the  innumerable  odds  and 
•ends  that  are  essential  if  you  would  make  a  prolonged 
stay  in  a  country  far  from  supplies.  Londiani  is  one  of 
the  higher  points  on  the  line,  and  the  glass  must  have  been 
almost  at  the  freezing  point.  David  Rebman's*  energy 
even,  was  not  proof  against  that  bitter  fog  laden  cold, 
and  when  I  crawled  out  of  my  carriage  I  found  him,  too, 
crouching  among  his  blanket-covered  men. 

Well,  the  welcome  sun  came  out  at  last.  And  the 
.glorious  African  morning  broke,  cloudless,  opalescent 
steamy  vapour  rises  from  grass  as  yellow  and  tall  as  ripe  up- 
standing English  wheat — that  fills  the  hollows,  clothes  the 
sides  of  the  steep  hills,  and  pushes  right  up  against  the 
railway  platform. 

Two  long  swaying,  struggling  ox  teams  crawl  slowly 
away,  half  hidden  in  the  golden  morning  haze.  The 
numbed  sefari  shakes  itself  into  order,  and,  breakfastless, 
we  take  the  road  on  our  last  stage  of  the  way  to  the  Nzoia 
or  Guash'ngishu  country  whither  we  are  bound.  The 
Sergoit  rock,  which  may  be  said  to  mark  it,  lies  some 
seventy  miles  away. 

Here  I  will  say  a  word,  as,  indeed,  I  shall  have  occasion 
to  do  again  and  again,  for  the  often  well-abused  sefari 
porter.  I  say  we  all  started  breakfastless,  but  in  my 
friend's  case  and  my  own,  we  had  dined  fairly  well  at 
Nakuru  the  night  before.  Our  porters  were  not  so  fortu- 
nate —  railway  travelling  is  slow  in  British  East  Africa. 
The  single  line  is  of  narrow  gauge,  and  there  is  of 
necessity  much  shunting  and  many  stops.  Nairobi  was 
only  a  little  more  than  one  hundred  miles  away,  but  we 
had  entrained  there  early  the  morning  before.  Head- 
man, Somali  gunboys,  tentboys,  cooks,  Swahili,  many 

*David  Rebman  was  my  headman,  on  my  previous  hunting  trip  to  the  country.    I  give  some- 
thing of  his  quite  eventful  history  in  another  article.     He  is  a  quite  first  class  headman. 


1.  Watergate  of  old  fort,  Mombassa 

2.  Ruins  of  old  Portuguese  fort  at  harbor  entrance,  Mombassa 


MOMBASSA  TO  LION  LAND  13 

Amwazi  porters,  Wakamba  trackers,  Waganda,  Massai 
guides  and  totos* — all  breakfastless  —  had  then  scrambled 
into  the  cars,  and,  according  to  the  benighted  custom  of 
the  country,  had  been  at  once  locked  into  iron  trucks 
assigned  them. 

Potio  f  they  had,  of  course,  each  man  carrying  six 
kabalas,  i.  e.,  six  days'  rations  —  about  nine  pounds. 
But  meal  or  rice  cannot  be  eaten  raw,  and  on  a  railroad 
journey  cooking  was  out  of  the  question.  So  these  break- 
fastless men  had  had  nothing  to  eat  since  the  afternoon 
of  two  days  before,  yet  cheerfully  they  shouldered  their 
unusually  heavy  burdens,  and  marched  more  than  five 
hours  up  hill  and  down  dale  to  the  first  convenient  camping: 
place. 

Now,  few  porters  anywhere  would  cheerfully,  as  these 
did,  undertake  such  a  job.  The  eminent  politician  I 
lately  referred  to,  has  just  published  in  the  Strand  Maga- 
zine some  account  of  his  brief  experience  of  sefari  life  in 
Uganda.  He  describes  his  sefari's  start  on  the  march 
between  the  lakes  —  his  strongest  porters  scrambled  for 
the  lightest  loads,  while  the  heaviest  remained  to  be 
carried  by  the  weaker  ones,  who  wept  over  their  jobs. 
And  he  goes  on  to  say  that  though  there  was  one 
headman  to  every  twenty  porters,  such  a  state  of  things, 
was  permitted. 

I  have  had  no  experience  of  sefarying  in  Uganda,  but  I 
can  confidently  say  that  in  an  ordinarily  well  arranged 
sefari  nothing  of  the  sort  could  possibly  happen  in  British 
East  Africa.  Travelling  with  such  men,  and  under  such 
circumstances  would  be  intolerable.  There  never  should 
be  any  scrambling  for  loads.  All  of  these  should  be 
weighed  carefully  before  any  start  is  made.  The  loads  are 

*Totos  are  boys  learning  to  be  porters.  They  are  not  reckoned  on  the  "strength"  of  a  sefari  nor 
do  they  receive  potio.  They  are  engaged  as  a  private  matter  by  men  in  the  sefari  to  help  carry 
their  belongings.  Hence  often  arises  difficulty. 

f  Potio — the  meal  allowance  of  about  ij  Ibs.  which  each  porter  has  a  right  ta  daily. 


i4  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

then  laid  out  in  a  long  line  on  the  ground.  At  the  head- 
man's bidding  all  the  porters  line  up  behind  them,  and 
each  has  his  own  special  burden  assigned  (which  he  carries 
unless  other  arrangements  are  made,  till  the  end  of  the 
trip).  He  is  then  allowed  to  take  his  load  aside,  and 
fasten  to  it  his  own  little  belongings,  sleeping  mat,  clothes, 
potio,  etc.,  etc. 

Our  sefari  numbered  one  hundred  and  ten  men.  There 
were  six  different  tribes  of  Africans  represented  on  it, 
and  instead  of  one  headman  to  twenty  porters,  there  was 
just  one  —  David  Rebman.  Though  all  our  things  were 
dumped  on  the  platform,  and  there  lay  in  an  immense 
heap,  each  package  had  been  previously  weighed  and 
tied  up,  so  there  was  no  confusion  and  no  inequality  — 
certainly  no  weeping  porters.  (It  is  well  to  take  the 
time,  and  see  the  loads  weighed  yourself,  before  the  sefari 
starts  from  Nairobi.)  There  was  far  more  food  to  be  car- 
ried to  Sergoit,  than  there  were  men  to  carry  it.  I  had, 
therefore,  arranged  for  the  main  supply  of  potio  to  be 
hauled  in  two  wagons  with  ox  teams  from  Londiani  to  the 
next  government  boma  at  Eldama  Ravine,  where  donkeys 
were  waiting  for  us.  Four  different  kinds  of  food  had 
to  be  provided  for  the  men.  Somalis  bargain  for  an  allow- 
ance of  Halwa  (rice).  This  is  the  most  expensive  portion. 
Headmen,  tentboys,  syces,  and  gun  bearers  take  Monza 
rice  (i.  e.,  rice  from  the  German  lands  round  the  lake). 
The  porters  try  to  get  Monza  if  you  can  be  persuaded  to 
give  it,  but  they  do  just  as  well  on  well  ground  mealee 
meal,  which  is  usually  half  the  price.  The  Kikuyus  want 
beans,  and  crushed  mealies  must  be  taken  along  for  ponies 
and  mules.  Of  all  these  various  grains  we  had  more  than 
three  tons  to  carry. 

I  give  these  details  of  food  needed  for  a  sefari,  just 
to  convey  some  idea  of  how  much  planning  and  forethought 
is  necessary  if  a  sportsman  elects  to  cut  loose  from  the 


MOMBASSA  TO  LION  LAND  15 

railroad,  and  push  far  afield.*  One  rule  it  is  always 
well  to  observe  in  planning  a  sefari  —  be  sure  and  engage 
many  more  porters  than  you  have  loads;  men  fall  sick, 
occasionally,  a  few  desert,  and  at  the  last  something  is 
sure  to  happen  which  calls  for  extra  porterage.  My 
observance  of  this  rule  stood  me  in  good  stead  on  this 
occasion.  When  the  ox  wagons  were  piled  high  with  all 
the  teams  could  draw,  we  found  that  there  were  seven 
loads  left  over.  These  must  have  been  left  behind,  if  my 
men  could  not  shoulder  them.  Next,  as  I  stood  on  the 
platform,  a  note  was  handed  to  me  from  M.  A.  C.  Hoey, 
a  professional  hunter  I  had  engaged  for  this  trip,  as  I  wished 
to  ride  lions,  saying,  that  as  he  knew  I  had  plenty  of  porters, 
and  he  had  not  been  able  to  hire  any  at  the  station,  he 
hoped  I  could  bring  his  personal  belongings  along.  That 
meant  nine  loads  more.  Here,  then,  were  sixteen 
extra  loads  unexpectedly  cast  on  me.  Things  seemed  to 
go  wrong  this  morning,  for  two  of  my  men  had  sickened 
in  the  night,  as  natives  often  do  (small  blame  to  them, 
poor  fellows,  shut  up  in  iron  trucks  for  so  many  hours),  and 
for  a  time  it  looked  as  if  some  necessary  things  must,  after 
all,  remain  behind  till  I  could  send  for  them.  But  I  called 
the  men  together  and  laid  the  case  before  them,  asking 
them  to  help  me  out,  and  so  they  did  right  manfully. 

I  am  not  a  little  proud  of  a  that  first  breakfastless 
march  in  bitter  cold  out  of  Londiani,  with  men  who  had 
had  no  food  for  thirty-eight  hours,  and  who  cheerfully, 
in  spite  of  that,  carried,  some  of  them,  almost  one  hundred 
pounds,  to  please  me,  and  save  delaying  the  sefari.  Would 
any  other  men  but  these  good  natured,  willing,  black  folk 
do  it?  Certainly  neither  English  nor  American  soldiers 
would  or  could. 

*I  make  no  mention  here  of  personal  supplies — tents,  clothes,  ammunition,  food  delicacies,  wines, 
whiskey  (we  carried  no  alcohol  whatever  for  ourselves)  and  selected  provisions  for  the  whole  trip — 
should  be  bought  and  boxed  in  London.  The  boxes  must  not  weigh  more  than  fifty-five  pounds. 
The  Army  and  Navy  Co-operative  Company  do  this  work  admirably.  Full  details  of  such  pro- 
visioning I  give  elsewhere. 


16  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

The  road,  or  more  properly,  track,  for  as  yet  there  are 
no  roads  in  the  country  (if  a  few  miles  of  gravelled  roadway 
near  Nairobi  be  excepted)  winds  between  rolling  hills 
and  dense  spurs  of  encroaching  forest,  twenty-two  miles 
to  Eldama  Ravine  Boma.  There  is  a  government  station, 
and  a  district  commissioner  holds  his  court,  ruling  the  neigh- 
bouring tribes.  The  country  you  pass  through  for  all 
these  twenty-two  miles,  is  exceedingly  rich  and  capable 
of  raising  almost  any  crop  and  of  supporting  great  herds 
of  cattle.  Yet  not  one  single  settler's  shamba  *  is  visible 
for  all  the  long  way.  You  ask  why  ?  And  the  answer 
is  of  a  sort  one  hears  far  too  frequently  in  the  Protectorate: 
"Oh,  all  this  is  So-and-So's  concession." 

Twenty-two  miles  of  splendid  land,  near  the  railroad, 
too,  locked  up  and  refused  to  settlers,  just  because 
someone  with  a  "pull  at  home"  asked,  and  someone  in 
authority  gave,  what  he  did  not  know  anything  about. 
Real  settlers  are  naturally  discouraged  by  such  a  policy. 
As  I  have  mentioned  this  concession,  near  the  railroad, 
I  may  as  well,  since  it  is  a  flagrant  case  of  governmental 
unwisdom  and  lack  of  foresight,  state  what  I  learned  about 
it  later  on. 

Not  only  is  this  rich  district  between  Londiani  and 
Eldama  Ravine  held  back  from  settlers,  but  you  may 
ride  more  than  forty  miles  after  leaving  Eldama  Ravine, 
through  a  country  perhaps  the  very  finest  and  certainly 
the  healthiest  in  East  Africa,  and  look  as  far  as  you  can 
on  either  side  of  your  way  without  seeing  a  head  of  cattle, 
or  one  sod  turned  for  purposes  of  agriculture.  All  has  been 
"concessed"  to  a  group  of  individuals  as  a  forest  concession. 
Now,  it  is  true  you  are  passing  through  the  great  Mau 
forest  region.  Hundreds  of  square  miles  of  the  finest 
timber  borders  your  pathway.  Let  Government  give  away 
the  mighty  Mau  forest  if  it  must,  or  does  not  know  any 

*African  word  for  farm. 


MOMBASSA  TO  LION  LAND  17 

better  use  to  put  it  to.  But  why  in  the  name  of  all  that  is 
reasonable  give  away  the  splendid  reaches  of  rich  down 
and  blossoming  prairie,  watered  by  clear  mountain  streams, 
that  by  thousands  of  acres  lies  between  the  ridges  and 
horns  of  this  many  branching  forest. 

It  seems,  too,  to  be  adding  insult  to  injury,  when  the 
tired  would-be  settler  is  obliged  to  trudge  behind  his 
oxen  or  his  laden  donkey,  these  seventy  long  miles,  through 
just  the  sort  of  land  he  has  heard  about,  and  has  come  so 
far  to  seek,  while  he  is  forbidden  to  take  up  one  acre.  He 
would  be  well  contented  to  leave  the  forest  alone.  It  is 
much  too  big  a  job  for  him.  If  all  the  settlers  in  East  Africa 
cut  their  fence  poles  within  its  great  borders,  no  one  would 
miss  an  acre  of  it.  But  the  rich  lands,  watered  by  the 
many  streams  born  in  its  depths,  and  husbanded  by  its 
shade,  are  just  the  lands  he  wants.  They  lie  open  to  the 
temperate  sun  of  that  upland  region.  There  is  never 
any  severe  heat  by  day,  and  the  nights  are  cool.  Frost  is 
not  known. 

Here  is  surely  one  of  the  garden  spots  of  East  Africa, 
and  if  I  mistake  not  one  of  its  most  valuable  sanatoria. 

But  I  must  bottle  up  my  wrath,  and  go  on  my  way, 
for  I  am  on  sefari.  The  hot  day  is  over,  it  is  warmer 
down  near  the  line  than  on  the  higher  uplands  of  the  Mau; 
and  the  deliciously  cool  evening  time  has  come,  a  tender 
light  falls  softly  on  everything.  It  is  impossible  to  exag- 
gerate the  exquisite  quality  of  that  last  glow,  before  the 
brief  twilight  falls.  Golden  shadows  pass  slowly  over 
the  yellow  slopes,  and  softly  outlined  against  the  distant 
horizon,  the  wooded  hills  are  a  dreamy  blue.  The  sun- 
setting  is  often  splendid.  The  last  glow  light  seems  to 
fall  across  the  world  in  bars  of  actual  colour.  In  these 
the  waving  grass  heads  seem  living  gold.  The  trees  are 
bathed  afresh  in  a  greenery  so  vivid,  that  it  is  as  though 
their  leafage  had  burst  from  the  bud  but  a  few  hours 


i8  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

before.  All  the  world  is  glorified  for  a  few  minutes.  It  is 
a  new  and  wonderful  world,  "without  spot  or  wrinkle 
or  any  such  thing."  All  things  beneath,  as  all  things 
above,  catch  the  last  parting  sunset  colour,  as  only  cloud- 
land  sometimes  catches  it  in  our  northern  climes.  One 
great  last  wave  of  pure  pink  light  sweeps  softly,  slowly, 
over  prairie  and  woodland,  then  for  an  instant  hovers 
on  the  hill  tops,  changes  to  dark,  rich  purple,  and  then 
fades  to  gray,  for  night  comes  apace  in  Africa. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  SEFARI 

SEFARI  is  the  name  used  all  over  East  Africa  for 
what  in  the  West  we  call  "outfit"  -the  men  you 
take  along  to  enable  you  to  prosecute  your  journey,  or 
procure  your  sport.  The  pleasure  and  success  of  an 
East  African  trip,  depend  more  on  a  well-chosen  and 
well-managed  sefari,  than  on  anything  else,  more,  even, 
than  on  the  perseverance  and  skill  of  the  sportsman  or 
traveller. 

If  a  hunting  trip  of  three  or  four  months  is  all  that 
the  visitor  to  East  Africa  feels  inclined  to  undertake,  the 
sort  of  life  I  try  to  describe  in  this  article  cannot  be  fully 
enjoyed.  It  takes  time  to  see  this  strange  and  beautiful 
country,  and  it  takes  time,  and  even  considerable  trouble, 
to  come  into  any  real  touch  with  its  tribes. 

But  a  most  enjoyable  trip  can  be  had,  and  very  good 
shooting  as  well,  in  even  three  or  four  months;  and  the 
best  arrangement  to  make  is  to  put  yourself  in  the  hands 
of  either  Messrs.  Newland,  Tarlton  &  Company,  or  the 
Boma  Outfitting  Company,  both  of  Nairobi.  Write  some 
months,  if  possible,  before,  saying  how  much  time  you 
can  afford,  what  you  want  to  shoot,  where  you  want  to  go, 
and  how  much  you  are  prepared  to  spend.  On  arriving 
at  Nairobi  you  will  find  things  ready  for  you,  and  in  a 
few  days  you  can  take  the  field. 

If  you  only  intend  taking  short  trips  of  a  few  days' 
duration  along  the  railroad  line,  you  will  not  need  a  sefari 
of  more  than  twenty  men  all  told.  If  you  want  good 
.shooting,  and  wish  to  try  for  elephant,  lion,  etc.,  you  must 

19 


20  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

go  farther  afield.  Each  sportsman  will  then  need  thirty 
porters,  one  headman,  two  askari  (native  soldiers),  one 
cook,  one  tentboy,  and  one  or  two  gun  bearers. 

These  your  agents  will  provide.  Your  expenses  will 
run  from  $350  to  $500  a  month.  This  will  not  include 
your  own  food,  which  should  be  brought  boxed  from  the 
Army  and  Navy  Stores  in  London.  It  will  not,  of  course, 
include  your  battery  or  ammunition,  nor  yet  the  cost  of  a 
professional  hunter  —  if  you  engage  one.  It  will  not  in- 
clude your  railroad  fares  or  passage  out  or  home. 

Your  licence  will  cost  you  $250.  Customs  dues  on 
entering  the  country  are  10  per  cent,  on  what  you  bring  in. 
If  you  elect  to  ride  a  mule  or  pony  this  cost  will  be  extra. 
But  the  shorter  your  stay  is  to  be,  the  more  advisable  is  it 
for  you  to  "do  yourself  well,"  and  not  to  go  in  for  too  hard 
walking.  On  the  march  I  strongly  advise  your  riding. 

If  two  friends  are  together,  $500  a  month  ought  to  cover 
everything. 

In  olden  days  of  sefari  travelling,  when  ivory  or  game 
were  sought,  the  process  of  collecting  a  sefari  on  the  East 
Coast  was  simplicity  itself.  Zanzibar  was  usually  the 
starting  point,  and  the  Zanzibar  authorities  were  the  inter- 
mediaries between  the  white  men  and  the  unfortunate 
natives.  These  were  compelled  to  go  on  any  journey, 
with  any  adventurer  their  masters  gave  them  orders  to 
accompany.  Some  little  part  of  wages  due  to  them,  they 
might  or  might  not  receive.  They  were  mere  slaves,  and 
had  no  choice  in  the  matter.  They  were  landed  on  the 
mainland,  men,  women,  and  children,  at  so  much  the 
head,  and  started  with  their  loads  into  the  dangerous 
unknown.  If  they  fell  down  by  the  way  they  were  kobokoed  * 
till  they  rose  again.  If  they  could  not  rise,  they  were  left 
where  they  lay.  If  they  deserted,  they  were  shot  by  their 

*  Koboko  —  the  hippo  or  rhino  whip  of  the  country.     It  is  about  three  feet  long,  made  from 
one  strip  of  raw  hide. 


THE  SEFARI  21 

masters  or,  if  they  escaped  from  them,  were  murdered 
by  unfriendly  tribes,  who  naturally  strove  in  every  way 
they  could  to  prevent  the  inroads  of  caravans  whose  object 
was  generally  to  steal  their  ivory  or  capture  them. 

East  Africa  till  very  lately  was  in  an  awful  plight. 
The  curse  of  age-long  slavery  and  perpetual  wars  and 
cattle  raiding  among  the  tribes  turned  what  should  have 
been  a  prosperous  country  into  the  darkest  and  most 
hopeless  of  lands,  where  every  man  distrusted  and  feared 
his  fellow.  There  was  no  rule,  no  central  authority.  The 
strong  consumed  the  weak.  A  region  where  rapine, 
cruelty,  and  bloodshed  perpetually  reigned.  The  distance 
from  one  inhabited  oasis  to  another  was  often  great.  Vast 
tracts  had  been  depopulated  by  native  wars,  pestilence  or 
the  slave  trade.  Sefaris,  therefore,  whether  they  were  made 
up  —  as  were  Somalis  or  Swahili  expeditions  for  purposes 
of  trade,  or  for  discovery  or  sport,  had  to  be  large  —  a 
march  through  much  of  the  country  meant  a  little  war, 
and  every  porter  carried  a  gun  in  addition  to  his  pack. 

So  it  came  to  pass  often,  that,  willingly  or  unwillingly, 
almost  every  sefari's  progress  tended  but  to  increase  the 
native  distrust  and  discontent,  and  to  add  to  the  misery 
of  the  country  it  passed  through. 

The  food  question  was  ever  the  burning  one,  for 
men  carrying  trading  goods  into  the  interior  could  not 
carry  a  sufficient  supply  of  food  as  well.  The  limit  of 
human  endurance  is  reached  at  sixty  pounds  the  man. 
It  takes  a  stout  porter  to  carry  that,  day  after  day  in  the 
sun.  Now  that  same  porter  eats  in  one  month  forty-five 
pounds  of  his  load,  so  it  is  at  once  evident  he  cannot  carry 
food  and  other  things  as  well.  (I  will  here  mention  a  fact 
that  illustrates  the  difficulties  of  African  travel  far  better 
than  pages  of  explanation.  Till  the  Uganda  railroad  was 
built,  the  regular  cost  per  ton  to  carry  goods  from  Mom- 
bassa  to  Lake  Victoria,  almost  six  hundred  miles,  was 


22  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

£200,  or  $1,000.  This  speaks  for  itself.)  Sefaris  had, 
therefore,  to  get  food  by  the  way,  or  perish. 

It  is  but  fair  to  try  to  put  ourselves  in  the  place  of  the 
stranger,  travelling  in  those,  not  so  far  away  days,  before 
we  judge  him  too  harshly.  He  was,  in  part  at  least,  the 
victim  of  circumstances,  the  reaper  of  other  men's  sowing. 
He  is  in  dire  need,  his  two  or  three  hundred  men  must  be 
fed.  He  offers  barter,  wants  to  buy.  The  owners  still 
refuse.  Nothing  is  left  to  him,  then,  but  to  arm  his  men 
and  take  the  precious  meal  by  force.  So  he  goes  on  his 
way,  relieved  for  a  time,  but  discontent  and  anger  dog  his 
footsteps,  and  he  leaves  his  bills  unpaid  behind  him,  to 
be  met  by  the  unfortunate  next  comer. 

The  result  of  such  a  state  of  things  was  misery  unspeak- 
able to  the  inhabitants,  and  danger  and  demoralization  to 
the  traveller.  Yes,  demoralization,  I  say.  Africa  has 
demoralized  many  a  man,  not  a  weakling  either.  She 
seems  to  do  so  still.  But  in  these  days  I  speak  of,  less 
than  fifteen  years  ago,  men  fell  under  her  evil  spell  of 
prevalent  lawlessness  all  too  readily.  If  the  truth  were 
known  about  the  many  expeditions  undertaken  for  sport 
or  even  for  exploration  (except  certain  world-famous  ones 
undertaken  for  rescue  and  relief),  it  would  make  gruesome 
reading.  All  higher  honour,  then,  to  that  small  band  of 
truly  great  and  brotherly  men,  who,  like  Livingston,  and 
Bishop  Harrington,  would  sooner  starve  than  take  one 
pound  of  food  by  force  from  ignorant  savagery. 

Sefaris  left  Zanzibar  several  hundred  strong,  and 
crawled  back  in  one,  two,  three,  years,  less  by  one-third, 
two-thirds,  sometimes  smaller  still.  What  wonder!  The 
porters  on  whose  perseverance  every  one's  life  depended 
were  poor  beasts  of  burden  merely.  They  had  no  shelter 
from  the  cold  rains  of  the  higher  plateaux  so  fatal  to  the 
coast  natives;  no  provision  for  the  wounded,  no  medicine 
for  the  sick.  The  koboko  was  their  one  counsellor  and 


THE  SEFARI  23 

friend.  None  marked  it  if  they  failed  to  return.  Some 
one  grabbed  their  pittance  due,  at  the  coast.  The  hyenas 
had  the  rest.  The  sefari  struggled  on! 

I  am  drawing  no  fanciful  picture.     I  am  simply  stating 
what  I  have  been  myself  told  by  men  who  took  part  - 
white  men  be  it  understood  —  in  many  such  old  time  sefaris 
from  Zanzibar  and  Mombassa. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  with  the  abolition  of  slavery, 
and  far  more  still,  with  the  introduction  of  Protectorate 
rule  by  England,  rule  that  does  most  really  attempt  at  least 
to  protect  the  native,  all  this  has  ceased.  You  are  obliged 
to  do  a  good  deal  for  your  sefari  —  often  much  more  than 
local  opinion  deems  necessary. 

The  porters'  wages  are  fixed.  You  cannot  pay  less, 
and  for  this  country  they  are  high.  The  quality  and  quan- 
tity of  food  you  must  give  him  are  fixed.  He  must  have  a 
blanket,  tent,  and  water  bottle  from  you,  even  if  he  is  en- 
gaged for  but  a  few  weeks.  He  is  supposed  to  be  examined 
and  passed  as  fit  to  work  by  the  medical  officer.  He  "signs 
on"  for  so  long  a  time  with  you,  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time,  if  he  demands  them,  you  must  pay  him  his 
wages.  You  are  supposed  not  to  punish  him,  but  hand 
him  over  in  case  he  misbehaves  to  the  civil  authorities. 
But  as  you  are  likely  to  be  often  more  than  a  hundred 
miles  from  any  court,  a  reasonable  enforcement  of 
discipline,  when  necessary,  is  expected  from  you,  and  not 
resented  by  him. 

So  much  about  present  sefari  life.  Every  would-be 
traveller  soon  learns.  He  knows  his  own  amount  of  bag- 
gage. He  knows  it  to  the  pound,  and  to  his  cost,  if  he 
pays  his  steamer  bills  at  Mombassa  before  coming  up 
country,  and  a  further  interview  with  the  railroad  authori- 
ties on  the  question  of  baggage  is  likely  to  impress  him 
still  more.  He  reads  in  books,  or  hears  from  friends  that 
he  will  need  so  many  men,  and  that  he  had  better  engage 


24  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

them  at  Nairobi  rather  than  at  Mombassa,  and  so  save 
the  £i  railroad  fare  per  man.  That  is  about  all  he  knows. 
He  chooses  his  agent  at  Nairobi  and  seeks  advice,  says 
how  long  he  intends  to  be  out  and  what  he  wants  to  get; 
whether  he  will  ride  or  walk;  live  simply,  and  content 
himself  with  a  Swahili  cook  at  30  rupees  a  month,  or 
luxuriate  in  a  Goanese,  and  pay  him  60  rupees;  whether 
he  is  determined  to  go  far  afield  and  stay  away  from  the 
railroad  for  several  months  at  a  time,  or  make  shorter 
trips  moving  his  sefari  by  rail  from  place  to  place. 

These  matters  settled,  his  agents  undertake  to  do  the 
rest,  and  promise  in  so  many  days  to  have  everything  ready 
for  a  start.  There  are  competent  agents  at  Nairobi  and 
other  places,  and  unless  there  is  a  great  crush  of  departing 
sefaris,  they  keep  their  word,  and  supply  good  or  fairly 
good  men.  And  so,  before  he  knows  it,  our  traveller  has 
embarked  on  one  of  the  most  interesting  undertakings 
any  sane  man  can  engage  in,  viz.,  travelling  in  a  country 
he  knows  little  about,  with  men  about  whom  he  knows 
nothing  whatever  —  men  on  whom  he  is  absolutely  depen- 
dent, as  no  traveller  is  dependent  on  any  one  in  civilized 
lands. 

I  have  sketched  without  exaggeration  the  growth 
and  starting  of  nine  sefaris  out  of  ten,  and  nearly  all  of 
them  go  out  and  come  back  without  serious  friction  or 
disaster.  Things  are  not  stolen,  lives  are  not  often  lost, 
and  this  fact  alone  is  an  unimpeachable  testimony  to  the 
faithfulness,  endurance,  and  worth  of  the  despised  East 
African  native. 

A  man  may,  and  often  does,  hurry  off  in  this  way. 
He  knew  nothing  when  he  started  of  his  fellow  travellers, 
and  except  a  name  here  and  there,  he  knows  as  much  and 
no  more,  when  the  hurry  and  scurry  of  collecting  indiffer- 
ent "heads"  of  as  many  different  varieties  of  game  is  over. 
But  I  protest  this  sort  of  thing  is,  first,  not  hunting;  second, 


THE  SEFARI  25 

is  not  seeing  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  interesting 
countries  anywhere;  and,  third,  is  not  real  sefari  life  at  all. 

Now  it  is  of  sefari  life  I  want  to  write,  and  it  is  to 
enable  even  an  inexperienced  sportsman  to  enjoy  something 
better  than  what  usually  passes  for  it,  that  I  beg  some  pa- 
tience for  my  seeming  prolixity  when  I  try  to  describe  a 
little  of  its  interest  and  charm.  Before  I  put  foot  in  East 
Africa,  I  did  what  I  could  to  gain  reliable  information 
as  to  what  my  sefari  should  consist  of.  How  could  I  man- 
age it  ?  How  far  march  it  ?  etc.,  etc.  One  said  leave 
all  to  your  "headman";  he  will  do  everything.  Well,  the 
first  headman  I  had,  though  more  than  highly  recommended, 
and  though  armed  with  chits  (testimonials)  that  if  true 
made  him  out  too  good  for  the  job,  had  among  a  multitude 
of  other  shortcomings  one  insuperable  one  —  he  couldn't 
walk  —  and  arrived  at  camping  ground  from  one  to  four 
hours  after  the  sefari. 

Another  said,  "Hire  a  professional  hunter  and  leave 
everything  in  his  hands."  Elsewhere  I  speak  strongly 
of  the  value  of  a  good  professional  hunter.  If  you  want 
to  spend  some  time  in  a  really  interesting  country,  and  kill 
interesting  and  dangerous  beasts,  unless  you  have  reason- 
ably complete  command  both  of  your  nerves  and  of  your 
weapon,  you  will  be  foolish  not  to  secure  such  a  man. 
But  I  like  doing  things  myself.  I  like  to  try  to  understand 
the  men  by  whose  aid  I  alone  can  do  them. 

So  much  for  the  general  view  of  the  case.  And,  next, 
I  don't  like,  as  a  rule,  the  Afrikander's  views  on  natives 
and  native  questions  in  this  land,  any  more  than  I  liked 
the  views  of  trappers  and  miners  and  settlers,  on  Indians 
and  Indian  questions  in  our  own  land,  when  first  I  became 
well  acquainted  with  them  many  years  ago. 

To  feel  the  interest  and  charm  of  a  new  country, 
you  want  to  feel  it  not  through  the  eye  or  ear  alone  but 
surely  through  touch  and  knowledge  (however  necessarily 


26  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

slight)  of  its  most  real  thing  —  its  people.  We  are  farr 
too  far,  away  from  our  fellowmen  as  it  is,  and  we  do  not 
want,  when  it  can  be  avoided,  any  widening  of  the  distance 
between  us  and  them,  by  unnecessary  employment  of  inter- 
mediaries. Then,  of  course,  your  chosen  agent  has  his 
ideas  of  how  things  should  be  managed,  how  the  men 
should  be  treated,  how  fed,  how  led,  how  camped;  and  if 
you  leave  these  matters  to  him,  in  all  justice,  you  are  bound 
to  give  him  your  support.  Even  if  you  find  after  a  time 
that  things  are  going  on  around  you  that  you  disapprove 
of,  it  is  difficult  to  make  a  change  on  sefari  —  like  swapping 
horses  while  crossing  a  stream  —  it  is  a  hazardous  under- 
taking. You  had  best  leave  matters  alone  till  you  make 
a  fresh  start.  From  the  beginning,  the  men  know  that  some 
one  man  is  really  responsible.  Chopping  and  changing 
about  they  don't  understand.  A  harsh  leader  is  much 
better  than  no  leader  at  all. 

But  why  not  face  the  business  yourself?  You  are 
really  responsible  for  every  man  who  marches  with  you. 
You  are  their  guide,  protector,  doctor,  magistrate,  and 
friend.  You  cannot  hire  anyone  to  discharge  these  duties 
for  you.  You  are  more  than  all  these  —  you  are  a  visible 
embodiment  and  illustration  of  the  great  unknown  outside 
world  to  these  poor  black  folk  —  a  world  that  has  given 
them  so  far  few  of  its  good  men,  and  many  of  its  bad,  a 
world  that  has  harried,  tormented,  enslaved,  dispossessed, 
and  slaughtered  them  as  it  seemed  best  to  its  most  ungodly 
wisdom.  As  you  treat  them,  as  you  hold  yourself  before 
them,  they  will  judge  of  it  and  you.  English  rule  has 
already  done  them  good  in  many  ways,  and  they  know 
it.  But  then  it  has  also  taken  from  them  much  that  they 
value,  and  insists  on  still  taking.  Their  lands  are  being 
steadily  taken  away.  I  don't  say  for  a  moment  that  this 
shouldn't  be.  I  hold  it  most  reasonable  that  good  land, 
lying  untilled  or  half  tilled,  should  be  put  to  the  best  use; 


THE  SEFARI  27 

and  that  savage  cultivators  should  be  induced  or  forced 
to  make  use  of  what  remains  to  them.  There  is  plenty 
of  land  still  for  every  one,  but  it  is  the  speculator  who 
makes  here  as  everywhere  else  the  loudest  outcry.  But 
these  poor  folk  cannot  understand  such  philosophy  in  a 
day.  There  is  no  one  yet  to  teach  them,  to  prepare  them 
for  acceptance  of  the  cruelly  inevitable,  but  a  scattered 
band  of  devoted  men  and  women  missionaries.  They 
cannot  be  expected  to  welcome  a  cutting  down  by  half 
of  their  grazing  lands,  if  they  are  herdsmen  like  the  Massai; 
or  a  ruthless  removal  of  their  shambas  to  equally  rich  lands 
as  those  they  till,  but  many  miles  back  from  the  railroad, 
if  they  are  Kikuyus,  because  the  iron  rail  means  little  to 
them,  tho'  everything  to  the  incoming  settler. 

Why,  too,  they  ask,  should  they  be  obliged  to  pay 
two  rupees  tax  on  each  of  their  huts.  They  never  paid  such 
a  sum  to  any  one  before,  and  the  huts  and  gardens  are  just 
the  same  that  their  forefathers  builded  and  tilled.  It  mat- 
ters not  to  them  that  the  hut  tax  can  be  paid  out  of  the 
increased  money  they  earn,  and  that  when  fully  rendered 
it  does  not  pay  the  cost  of  their  protection  against  enemies 
and  cattle  plagues. 

In  time  they  will  understand,  but  fifteen  short  years 
of  partial  occupation  is  not  nearly  time  enough  to  reach 
the  intelligence  of  a  dozen  different  tribes,  speaking  a  dozen 
entirely  different  languages,  with  no  means  of  intercom- 
munication except  tribal  gossip.  No  schools  as  yet,  often 
no  chiefs  who  wield  any  real  authority.  (One  of  the  mis- 
takes made  by  the  administration,  as  it  seems  to  me,  is 
the  too  common  lessening  of  the  native  chief's  authority.) 
But  they  will  watch  you,  the  white  man,  wonder  at  you, 
study  you.  Your  stay  among  them  will  surely  help  them 
up,  or  tend  as  surely  to  pull  them  down. 

I  don't  judge  harshly  the  local  Afrikander  influence, 
when  I  say  it  rarely  indeed  troubles  itself  about  any  such 


28  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

things.  The  Afrikander  is  but  an  uncertain  bird  of  passage. 
He  does  not  care  for  the  land  or  for  anything  in  it.  He 
wants  money.  As  soon  as  he  has  that,  his  one  idea  is 
to  go  home  to  the  old  land  that  he  does  love.  The  Boer 
alone  wants  to  make  a  home.  But  his  home  must  be  one 
after  his  own  mind  and  plan.  The  best  land  and  immense 
tracts  of  it  he  wants,  and  with  all  his  silent,  obstinate 
nature,  he  determines  to  have  it.  The  native  and  his 
rights  are  nothing  whatever  to  him.  He  will  not  crush 
him  out  of  existence,  for  he  needs  his  labour  to  cultivate 
his  farm  and  tend  his  cattle.  But  without  one  particle 
of  scruple  he  will  kick  him  out  of  his  way.  And  the  Boer 
as  England  knows  by  now,  can  kick  very  hard  indeed. 
So  when  six  weeks  from  London  you  may  find  yourself  in 
a  country  where  till  two  years  ago,  in  some  parts  of  it  at 
least,  white  man's  feet  had  never  come,  among  people 
strange  and  new,  yet  so  friendly  that  you  are  safe,  so  far 
as  they  are  concerned  from  danger,  as  you  would  be  in 
London,  and  far  less  likely  to  be  robbed  than  you  would  be 
in  New  York.  Then  look  kindly  on  them.  Study  them, 
as  well  as  Ward's  valuable  book  on  record  "heads,"  and 
make  up  your  mind  for  good  or  for  bad  to  run  your  own 
sefari.  If  this  is  your  decision,  then  tell  your  agent  at 
Nairobi  that  above  all  other  things  they  must  give  you  a 
really  honest,  reliable  "headman."  They  can  do  this; 
there  are  several  such  on  their  books.  They  procured 
David  Rebman  for  me,  and  a  better  headman  —  capable, 
experienced,  kind,  and  thoughtful  with  his  porters  —  there 
is  not  in  the  country.  Your  headman  will  make  you  or 
mar  you.  The  problem  of  potio  is  quite  beyond  even  the 
most  painstaking  investigator  at  first.  You  will  have 
to  do  as  you  are  told,  and  get  the  hang  of  it  as  soon  as  you 
can.  At  the  beginning  of  sefari  life,  you  will  have  to  be 
guided  by  your  headman.  Show  him  your  baggage. 
Tell  him  roughly  what  you  wish  to  do  and  whence  you  go. 


THE  SEFARI  29 

He  on  his  part  will  tell  you  where  he  has  been  with  other 
bwanas  (masters)  and  what  luck  they  have  had,  how  long 
they  were  out,  what  number  of  porters  were  necessary, 
and  if  the  sefari  was  able  to  employ  donkeys  to  save 
porterage  —  a  very  important  point. 

After  one  or  two  quiet  talks  with  your  men,  you  will 
have  some  idea  of  the  size  of  your  expedition,  but  not  yet, 
I  am  sorry  to  say,  even  a  glimmering  notion  of  the  size 
of  your  bill.  It  seems  so  hopeful  at  first,  to  find  out  that 
you  can  hire  a  quite  first-class  porter  for  three  dollars  a 
month  and  feed  him  on  two.  I  remember  well  how  golden 
were  the  dreams  I  indulged  in  when  I  took  out  my  first 
sefari.  Here  at  last  was  a  delightful  form  of  sport  that 
cost  less  than  ordinary  hotel  living.  The  disillusionment 
when  it  came  was  complete.  No,  you  cannot  "do"  Africa 
cheaply,  and  of  all  countries  under  the  sun,  this  is  the 
very  worst,  I  should  fancy,  in  which  to  try  to  practise 
economy. 

You  will  need  porters  — 

To  carry  your 

Tent  (a  green  waterproof  one,  8x8,  made  by  Edgerton, 

2  Duke  Street,  London  Bridge)       ...  3  porters 

'      Bedding I   porter 

*      Tent  table  and  chair  .....  i   porter 

'      Canteen  pots  and  pans       .....  i   porter 

'      Private  tin  boxes,  clothing,  books       .         .         .  I  to  3  porters 

'      Ammunition       .         .         .         .         .         .         .  i   to  2  porters 

'      Own  food  (depends  on  time  out)       .         .         .  i  to  10  porters 

'      Gun  cases I   porter 

If  pony  is  taken,  one  syce i  porter 

As  tentboy i  porter 

As  cook i   porter 

It  is  a  safe  rule  to  allow  twenty  porters  for  your  per- 
sonal belongings,  not,  of  course,  including  men's  food  or 
anything  else.  Now  I  admit  that  these  numbers  sound 
excessive  and  some  of  the  items  I  have  named  may  seem 
—  specially  to  those  who  have  only  been  accustomed  to 


30  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

hunting  in  our  woods  and  mountains  —  mere  encumbrances. 
I  cannot  enter  here  fully  into  this  side  of  the  question, 
and  can  only  say  if  you  cut  these  figures  down  much, 
you  will  surely  be  sorry  for  it.  You  had  better  be  guided 
by  the  experience  of  those  who  have  lived  sefari  life  for 
years.  Here  in  Africa  you  cannot  take  the  happy  chance 
that  every  one  gladly  accepts  in  northern  climates.  Three 
men  to  a  tent  means  a  big  heavy  tent,  it  is  true,  but  to  travel 
with  any  other  is  to  endanger  your  health.  Your  tent 
is  your  home  for  months.  Often  you  must  eat  as  well  as 
sleep  in  it.  And  in  all  weather,  even  under  equatorial 
torrents,  it  must  be  dry.  You  may  have  long  days  of  sick- 
ness in  it  —  then  it  must  be  cool.  And  so  on.  I  only 
name  the  African  tent  as  an  illustration  of  the  absolute 
need  of  "doing  yourself  well"  in  everything.  If  you 
cannot  do  this,  go  somewhere  else  than  to  British  East 
Africa  Protectorate. 

You  can  count  on  your  men  costing  you  from  15  ru- 
pees to  1 8  rupees  a  month  each  (15  rupees  equals  £i  or 
$5),  the  difference  depending  on  the  price  you  must  pay 
for  their  potio.  If  you  wish  to  travel  more  rapidly,  you 
will  take  your  sefari  perhaps  the  first  stage  of  the  way 
by  the  railroad,  and  since  you  thus  cover  in  one  day  what 
it  would  take  you  several  days  to  do  marching,  you  will 
find  the  expense  comes  to  about  the  same.  You  will 
find  that  a  month  away  from  all  base  of  supplies  is  about 
your  practical  limit.  For  remark  —  and  if  you  remember 
this  it  will  save  you  many  tedious  efforts  after  calculation 

—  each  man  carries  sixty  pounds  of  potio,  and  each  eats 
forty-five    pounds    each    month.     A    porter    is,    therefore, 
able  to  carry  fifteen  pounds  only  for  you  in  addition  to  his 
food.     A   sefari   of  one   hundred   porters,   not   including, 
remember,   gunboys,    headman,    tentboys,    cook    or    syce 

—  can   carry  for  a   month  1,500  pounds  over  and  above 
their  food  and  no  more.     Of  course,  this  is  all  very  con- 


Strong  men  (porters)  going  to  bathe 

Hairdressing  extraordinary.      My  dandies 

Kikuyu  porter  —  see  the  way  all  Kikuyus  carry  load 


THE  SEFARI  31 

fusing  at  first.  You  can  only  trust  your  headman  and 
keep  perpetually  noticing  things.*  Gradually  it  will  dawn 
on  you  that  to  be  a  successful  headman  implies  a  most 
unusual  combination  of  qualities.  In  addition  to  those  I 
have  already  named,  he  must  be  absolutely  fair  minded 
as  between  man  and  man.  He  must  be  strictly  just  in 
giving  out  potio.  The  little  cup  of  meal  must  not  be 
heaped  or  shaken  for  one,  and  just  dipped  into  the  sack 
for  another.  That  the  sefari  will  not  endure.  He  appor- 
tions each  man's  daily  burden.  The  loads  should  be 
weighed  before  starting  from  Nairobi.  After  that  there 
can  be  no  daily  weighing.  At  a  glance,  therefore,  he 
must  know  what  each  must  have.  He  can  have  no  favour- 
ites, and  no  enemies.  His  eye  it  is  that  notes  the  sick  man 
—  the  really  sick  —  and  detects  the  lazy  and  incompetent 
man.  He  it  is  who  must  decide  who  shall  be  relieved 
of  his  burden  on  the  march,  and  among  what  other  reluctant 
fellows  that  burden  must  be  shared  till  No.  i  can  take  it 
again.  The  multitudinous  employments  of  the  camp, 
as  well  as  of  the  march,  he  can  alone  apportion.  So  many 
men  are  chosen,  during  the  first  few  days  marching,  to 
pitch  the  tents,  the  moment  the  sefari  comes  in.  So  many 
to  go  at  once  for  the  wood,  sometimes  these  men  must  go 
more  than  a  mile  for  it,  so  many  to  fetch  water.  One 
has  to  trench  each  tent.  There  are  from  ten  to  twenty 
other  tents  to  be  pitched.  The  men  whose  duty  it  is  to 
do  this  are  all  told  off,  and,  let  me  say  here,  that  no  one 
can,  I  believe,  pitch  a  tent  so  fast  or  so  well  as  these  people 
can.  I  have  camped  with  smart  regiments  in  my  early 
days,  but  neither  in  England  nor  in  America  could  any 
of  them  compare  with  sefari  folk  in  tent  pitching.  Smart- 
ness at  the  job  is  of  vital  importance.  For  instance,  only 
yesterday  we  had  to  reach  a  certain  water  spring,  and  as 

*  The  question  of  food  supply  is  the  question  above  all  others,  and  of  the  best  ways  to  meet  it  I 
speak  elsewhere. 


32  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

we  neared  it,  over  us  drew  one  of  those  dark,  gray  lipped 
clouds  that  here  mean  a  torrent.  Many  of  the  men  were 
sick  and  suffering  from  the  severe  cold  and  rain,  for  a 
month  "African  fountains"  had  not  been  "sunny,"  and 
in  the  evening  and  at  night  you  needed  a  suit  of  fur-lined 
underclothes,  some  one  said.  To  get  these  men  dry  to 
bed  was  all  important,  for  we  would  be  out  of  potio,  if  we 
delayed,  and  there  was  no  game  just  there.  It  was  a 
race  against  time  and  storm.  The  pipers  piped  up  man- 
fully, the  sefari  came  in  after  a  long  march  at  its  best  pace, 
and  I  counted  fourteen  tents  and  our  three  big  ones,  pitched 
perfectly  and  trenched  completely  so  that  they  could  stand 
any  weather,  in  eight  minutes  from  the  time  the  first  bundle 
was  thrown  down  by  the  first  porter  marching  on  the  ground. 
That  such  a  feat  could  be  accomplished  many  will  not 
be  prepared  to  believe,  but  I  timed  the  men  watch  in 
hand.  I  shall  have  other  stories  to  tell  of  what  the  native 
can  accomplish  when  he  likes  his  job. 

The  headman  practically  decides,  till  you  get  to  know 
the  men  yourself,  who  needs  punishment  when  (it  is  to 
be  hoped  very  rarely)  punishment  has  to  be  meted  out. 
Disobedience  to  definite  orders  and  theft  must  be  punished 
at  once.  But  if  the  influences  of  the  sefari  are  good, 
there  are  scarcely  such  things  as  either  disobedience  or 
theft.  In  thirteen  months  of  sefari  life  I  was  obliged  to 
koboko  three  or  four  men  for  disobedience,  and  had  one 
case  of  theft. 

I  cannot  for  myself  see  how  any  one  can  travel  with 
his  sefari  for  even  a  few  weeks  and  not  be  interested  in 
all  these  things,  and  numberless  others  besides. 

Your  next  ally  in  the  managing  of  the  sefari,  and  your 
hourly  instructor  in  the  way  in  which  you  should  go,  is 
your  tentboy.  If  you  have  friends  in  the  country,  write 
beforehand  and  beg  them  to  choose  for  you  the  man 
you  want.  He  can  be  found.  There  are  many  excellent 


THE  SEFARI  33 

tentboys,  wonderful  to  say.  A  good  one  will  valet  you, 
as  well  as  you  have  ever  been  valeted  in  your  life.  Indeed, 
I  have  yet  to  discover  what  a  good  tentboy  will  not  do. 
But  I  wrote  hastily.  My  boy  John,  the  best  tentboy 
man  every  had,  will  not  do  one  thing  —  he  will  not  under 
any  inducement  whatever,  make  one  of  a  party  to  beat  a 
swamp  or  bit  of  brush  for  a  lion.  I  have  asked  him  to 
do  for  me  pretty  nearly  everything  else  that  an  inexperi- 
enced learned  could  ask,  and  he  has  never  once  failed  to 
do  it  well.  When  I  am  away  he  looks  after  the  sefari. 
When  we  camp  he  always  chooses  the  best  place  for  the 
tents  —  something  that  is  not  easy  to  do.  When  I  am 
off  on  a  small  personal  sefari  away  from  main  camp,  he 
is  my  excellent  cook.  If  I  want  to  be  called  any  hour 
before  sunrise,  I  am  never,  never,  awakened  five  minutes 
late.  He  keeps  the  accounts  of  the  sefari  and  writes  a  far 
better  hand  than  I  do.  The  comparison  does  John  in- 
justice, for  he  writes  a  singularly  good  hand.  He  is 
cleanliness  itself,  and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  be  waited  on  by 
him.  I  never  was  able  anywhere  to  get  my  Jaeger  shirt 
washed  without  shrinking.  I  get  them  a  foot  too  long 
and  a  foot  too  wide,  and  still  periodically  give  them  away 
to  some  small  poor  man,  good  as  new,  nay,  better,  for  they 
are  three  times  as  thick,  and  so  much  warmer  than  when 
I  bought  them.  Well,  John,  can,  in  some  miraculous 
way,  wash  "Jaeger"  without  shrinking  it.  Our  table- 
cloth is  white  oilcloth,  but  our  daily  dinner  napkins  are 
as  clean  as  at  home.  He  knows  where  my  money  is, 
where  my  letters  are,  and  always  carries  all  my  keys, 
thank  heaven,  and  never  loses  them. 

But  I  am  only  one  of  the  departments  John  has  to 
regulate  and  care  for.  Every  pound  of  flour,  pound  of 
oatmeal,  ounce  of  tea,  piece  of  precious  bacon;  every 
dried  prune  or  fig  —  all  the  ingredients  and  accessories 
of  our  food  —  John  dispenses  them  all.  There  is  not  a 


34  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

native  cook  I  verily  believe,  in  all  Africa  who  would  not 
make  a  hotch-potch  of  the  best  packed  and  assorted  "chop 
box"  *  in  one  hour.  But  John  saves  me,  for  every  chop 
box  is  locked,  and  kept  locked,  and  he  carries  the  keys. 
Simple,  faithful  little  soul,  never  out  of  temper,  never 
bringing  tales  of  anyone  however  badly  he  may  be  served, 
you  come  by  your  fine,  capable  nature  right  honestly, 
for  your  father  before  you,  John  Connop,  was  one  of  the 
two  or  three  indomitable  black  boys  that  no  suffering  or 
danger  could  drive  from  the  side  of  the  lonely,  great  man, 
Livingstone.  All  over  unknown  Africa  they  tramped  with 
him,  tended  by  them  only  he  died.  And  down  to  the  dis- 
tant sea  coast  they  brought  his  body.  Needless  to  say, 
John,  too,  is  a  Christian  and  a  mission  boy. 

I  am  not  drawing  a  fanciful  picture  or  writing  a  novel; 
I  am  only  stating  facts,  a  few  of  many  that  might  be 
stated.  John,  among  a  considerable  variety  of  employ- 
ments, served  as  a  nurse  for  a  year  in  a  hospital.  When 
we  had  one  of  our  men  mauled  by  a  lion,  and  when  for 
six  weeks  twice  daily,  the  wounds  had  to  be  treated  with 
boiled  water  and  antiseptic,  John  could  and  did  for  days 
together  undertake  the  man's  treatment.  He  can  march 
all  day  with  the  best  porters,  and  as  he  does  so  carries  an 
extra  gun  for  me.  He  lives  on  one  meal  a  day,  boiled 
rice  if  he  can  get  it.  If  not  that,  any  potio  going,  and  he 
doesn't  have  that  one  meal  till  he  has  seen  the  tents  up, 
the  beds  made,  the  mosquito  nets  hung,  our  dinner  cooked 
and  eaten.  Then  he  has  his  meal,  and  I  know  —  though 
J  can  never  catch  him  at  it  —  one  cigarette  afterward. 

Porters  are  to  the  sefari  what  the  Macedonian  phalanx 
was  to  Alexander's  armies.  There  can  be  no  safari  without 
them.  Successful  sportsmen  there  have  been  who  de- 
pended for  transport  almost  entirely  on  donkeys  or  ox 
wagon,  but  as  between  the  donkey  and  the  porter,  many 

*  Box  containing  personal  foods  and  delicacies. 


THE  SEFARI  35 

a  solid  advantage  rests  with  the  latter.  You  can  never 
tell  where  you  want  to  go  in  East  Africa.  Plan  your  trip 
never  so  carefully,  a  hundred  things  may  arise  which  will 
deflect,  if  they  do  not  alter,  your  route.  You  set  out  for 
a  six  weeks'  journey.  You  do  not  return  for  four  or  five 
months.  Freedom  of  movement  is  an  essential  in  this 
land  where  the  unexpected  is  forever  happening.  Now, 
donkeys  pin  you  down  in  two  ways:  They  cannot  make 
more  than  ten  or  at  most,  twelve  miles  a  day,  even  where 
the  trails  are  good;  and  when  there  are  none,  or  when  there 
is  much  swamp,  cannot  be  got  along  at  all.  Donkeys 
are  excellent  to  keep  your  base  of  supplies  full.  It  is  often 
necessary  to  have  a  number  of  them  regularly  travelling 
with  potio,  between  the  railroad  and  some  selected  spot 
near  the  country  to  be  explored  or  hunted.  In  this  way, 
you  can  keep  the  field  for  as  long  as  you  please,  for  it  is 
easy  to  send  ten  or  twenty  porters  from  your  hunting 
camp  to  this  supply  base,  while,  if  you  had  to  send  the 
men  a  hundred  miles  or  more  for  potio,  ten  or  twenty 
could  not  carry  any  sufficient  quantity,  and  would  consume 
a  large  part  of  their  loads  on  the  way;  and  to  send  more 
than  a  small  number  of  men  is  to  cripple  your  travelling 
machine,  and  to  force  you  to  remain  camped  till  they 
return.  Never  so  denude  yourself  of  men  that  you  cannot 
march.  This  is  a  rule  every  sefari  leader  should  remember. 

Let  me  go  back,  then,  to  the  phalanx  of  the  safari  - 
the  porter.  He  may  be  a  Kikuyu  or  Wakamba,  a  Swahili 
or  a  Kavorondo,  a  few  of  these  tribes  you  will  probably 
find  on  your  official  list,  but  Wanyamwazi  make  far  and 
away  the  best.  They  are  particular  about  their  food,  and 
demand  rice  if  it  can  be  got  for  them;  but  they  are  willing, 
good  tempered,  and  very  strong.  They  seldom  steal, 
seldom  fight  among  themselves,  and  practically  never 
desert.  (Kikuyus  are  always  apt  to  do  so,  and  you  can 
seldom  find  out  the  reason  why.)  They  carry  their  loads 


36  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

cleverly  and  well,  and  (for  porters)  are  cleanly  in  their 
personal  habits.  They  always  hang  together  on  the  road, 
and  in  the  bivouac,  and  you  can  tell  them  at  once  by 
the  regularity  of  their  line.  They  take  pride  in  keeping 
time  and  distance  as  they  tramp  along,  and  they  start 
from  camp  in  the  morning  and  tramp  home  when  the  day's 
work  is  done,  to  weird  pipings  and  flutings  of  their  own, 
on  little  reed  pipes  and  oryx  or  water  buck  horns,  care- 
fully guarded  for  such  time-honoured  usage. 

The  Wanyamwazi  want  meat,  and  will  eat  any  amount 
you  give  them.  On  the  other  hand,  if  meal  gives  out, 
many  of  the  Kikuyus  will  starve;  they  are  confirmed 
vegetarians,  whereas  when  meat  is  plentiful,  and  the 
difficulties  of  providing  potio  is  great,  you  can  put  your 
Wanyamwazi  on  half  meal  ration,  and  let  him  fill  up  on 
meat.  On  all  these  accounts  they  are  admittedly  the  best 
porters  in  East  Africa.  I  should  add  that  they  are  easily 
disciplined,  and  in  tent  pitching,  helping  with  cooking,  and 
making  themselves  generally  useful  around  camp,  they  are 
unequalled.  Like  all  the  rest  of  us,  they  have,  of  course, 
their  weak  points.  On  no  account  be  induced  to  let  one 
of  them  carry  your  extra  gun.  If  you  come  across  a 
rhino  or  lion  they  would  be  sure  to  let  it  off,  possibly  into 
your  back.  They  are,  one  and  all,  arrant  cowards,  and  a 
gun  in  their  hands  is  a  dangerous  weapon  to  anything 
and  everything  but  the  thing  aimed  at.  They  can  seldom 
be  induced  to  beat  a  swamp  or  donga  for  a  lion.  I  mean, 
of  course,  unwounded  lion,  for  after  a  wounded  lion  no 
porter  should  on  any  account  be  taken.  If  you  want  him, 
go  yourself  alone  with  your  gunboys.  To  take  porters  in 
to  cover  after  wounded  lion,  buffalo,  or  rhino  is  sheer  and 
criminal  folly.  If  some  one  is  not  mauled  or  tossed,  two 
or  three  are  likely  to  be  shot.  But  I  need  not  enlarge  on 
this  part  of  the  subject,  for,  though  the  Wanyamwazi  is 
a  coward,  he  is  not  a  fool,  and  he  will  most  probably 


THE  SEFARI 


37 


relieve  you  of  a  responsibility  you  should  not  think  of  incur- 
ring, by  refusing  to  go. 

Sixty  pounds  of  your  belongings,  carefully  boxed  so 
that  he  can  keep  the  box  on  his  head,  the  porter  will  carry. 
A  humane  man  will  see  to  it  himself,  that  this  amount  shall 
not  be  exceeded  unless  circumstances  arise  —  as  they 
sometimes  will  —  in  spite  of  the  best  care  and  foresight  — 
when  heavier  loads  must  be  carried  somehow  for  a  few  days. 
Remember  the  sixty  pound  box  or  bag  of  potio  is  far  from 
being  all  that  your  black  companion  has  to  carry  —  under 
the  burning  sun.  His  own  sleeping  mat,  his  sufurea 
(cooking  pot),  an  extra  pair  of  giraffe  or  eland  sandals 
he  has  carefully  made  by  the  way,  the  fly  of  his  little  tent 
or  the  tent  itself,  his  water  bottle,  knife,  probably  some 
pounds  of  dried  or  fresh  meat;  from  one  to  eight  days' 
potio  (that  is,  from  one  and  a  half  to  twelve  pounds),  a 
tent  pole,  some  tent  pegs,  and  how  many  dearly  prized 
odds  and  ends,  I  have  never  been  able  to  discover.  With 
all  these  cumbersome  things  stowed  somewhere  around 
him  he  uncomplainingly  does  his  twelve  to  twenty  miles 
a  day,  often  over  ground  thickly  strewn  with  poisonous 
thorns,  up  and  down  water-courses,  over  every  conceivable 
sort  of  obstruction,  Surely  he  earns,  if  any  man  does, 
his  pound  and  a  half  of  meal. 

Look  at  him  as  he  tramps  along.  How  he  carries  the 
load  he  does,  I  confess  I  don't  know.  Except  for  a  com- 
paratively short  time  in  the  year  he  lives  on  his  potio 
alone.  While  working  on  a  shamba  or  government  con- 
tract he  gets  nothing  else.  He  loves  meat,  and  that  is 
one  of  the  chief  reasons  he  will  often  leave  wife  and  child 
and  a  good  steady  job,  to  go  with  you,  an  unknown  bwana, 
on  sefari.  When  he  does  get  meat  he  seems  to  take  special 
pains  not  only  to  cram  himself  with  an  inordinate  quantity, 
but  to  do  so  in  such  a  way  as  to  cause  himself  the  greatest 
possible  bodily  harm.  His  custom  is  to  cut  the  raw  rhino 


38  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

meat  or  venison,  in  long  strips  of  about  a  square  inch  in 
thickness.  These  he  warms  over  the  fire,  no  more,  and 
then,  cramming  as  much  of  one  of  them  into  his  mouth 
as  it  will  hold,  places  the  knife  as  close  as  he  dares  to  his 
lips,  and  cuts  the  chunk  off,  which,  without  further  chewing, 
so  far  as  I  could  see,  he  swallows  down  in  one  monstrous 
gulp.  The  meat  is  nearly  raw,  and  he  scarcely  uses  his 
magnificent  teeth  on  it  at  all.  It  is  hard,  too,  to  induce 
him  to  cook  anything  thoroughly  —  sweet  potatoes,  beans, 
rice,  maize — none  are  half  done  when  he  consumes  them. 

Poor  fellow,  he  pays  his  score.  He  seldom  lives  to  be 
over  forty.  The  cause  of  this  unnecessary  shortlivedness 
is  uncertain,  for  in  this  new  land  where  there  is  so  much  to 
do,  and  alas!  so  few  capable  of  doing  it,  few  scientific 
observers  have  as  yet  troubled  their  heads  about  him. 
But  the  presumption  is  he  dies  of  worn-out  bowels.  His 
life  is  short,  but  till  the  sad,  swift  breakdown  comes  and 
he  slips  away,  as  he  himself  laughingly  will  tell  you,  to  the 
seci  (hyenas),  it  is  merry.  In  a  good  sefari  where  porters 
are  carefully  chosen,  and  fairly  treated,  you  hear  the  men 
singing  and  piping  all  the  time.  They  start  at  daybreak 
to  the  tune  of  the  piper  and  the  whistle  and  pipe  play 
them  into  camp. 

As  he  tramps  along,  a  more  miscellaneous  bundle  of 
rags  no  one  ever  saw,  yet,  as  you  look  closely,  you  will 
see  remnants  of  coats  once  "built"  in  Bond  Street,  shreds 
of  breeches  long  ago  faultlessly  cut  by  Tautz  or  Hammond, 
and,  somehow,  held  together  round  his  waist.  Where 
the  clergy  part  with  their  cast-off  clothes  I  do  not  know, 
but  unmistakably  clerical  collar  coats  are  quite  common. 
Through  all  these  curious  rags,  patched  in  a  hundred 
places  with  every  imaginable  stuff,  from  cheap,  American 
cotton  to  kongoni  hide,  his  finely  moulded  limbs,  magnifi- 
cent back  muscles,  and  soft,  silky,  brown  black  skin  shows 
freely.  Look  at  him,  for  he  is  well  worth  your  study! 


THE  SEFARI  39 

He  is  doing  a  job  that  Africa,  his  native  land  calls  on  him 
to  do,  and  he  is  proud  of  it,  and  does  it  extraordinarily 
well.  Anyone  who  has  marched  with  him  as  I  have, 
for  more  than  five  thousand  miles,  cannot  readily  accept 
much  of  the  cheap  current  talk  about  the  worthlessness 
of  native  labour.  In  more  than  a  year's  sefari  work  I 
only  had  one  man  steal  from  me,  and  I  have,  on  the  other 
hand,  to  remember  countless  deeds  of  unselfish  kindliness. 

Before  leaving  my  Wanyamwazi  porters,  I  must  find 
space  to  tell  of  his  day  of  modest  triumph.  As  the  sefari 
prolongs  its  journey,  he  reaches  a  pitch  of  raggedness 
that  I  will  not  venture  to  attempt  to  describe,  much  less 
photograph,  but  this  perambulating  bundle  of  rags,  that 
reminds  you  of  a  caddis  worm,  is  capable  of  a  veritable 
transformation.  Grub  turning  into  butterfly  never  worked 
it  more  deftly.  On  the  morning  of  the  day  when,  proudly 
led  by  the  chief  porter,  who  carries  the  heaviest  load,  or 
the  biggest  tusk,  the  phalanx  at  last  marches  in  from  its 
long  journey,  then  open  your  eyes  wide,  for  if  you  do  not 
you  will  not  recognize  your  own  men.  From  some  mys- 
terious hiding  place  a  new  suit  of  some  sort  is  forthcoming. 
His  duty  loin  cloth  has  given  place  to  a  snowy  pair  of  draw- 
ers. He  has  a  new  coat.  He  has  invented  somehow  a 
new  hat,  or,  if  that  is  beyond  even  his  resources,  he  has  an 
ostrich  feather,  or  a  zebra  tail,  or  a  fluffy  head  covering 
of  white  marabou  down,  which  he  cunningly  and  with 
much  rakish  taste,  fixes  on  his  black  pate.  He  feels  bound 
to  do  honour  to  himself,  the  sefari  and  his  bwana. 

I  generally  made  it  a  point  while  on  the  march,  to  keep 
near  the  sefari.  I  found  in  many  ways  the  habit  paid 
well.  I  got  to  know  the  men,  and  they  came  to  know  me, 
and  to  get  good  work  from  any  man,  he  must  be  sympa- 
thized with  and  known.  The  East  African  can,  I  am 
convinced,  be  led  far,  but  the  man  that  would  lead  him 
must  take  some  trouble  to  know  him.  In  such  a  little 


40  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

thing  as  a  safari's  marching,  sympathy  counts  for  much. 
When  a  hard  march  had  to  be  made,  I  took  care  to  be 
behind  or  alongside  the  men.  The  common  custom  on 
hunting  expeditions  is  for  the  bwana  to  ride  miles  ahead 
and  wait  for  the  porters  to  come  up.  I  never  could  see 
any  possible  advantage  to  anyone  in  this  custom.  In  diffi- 
cult country,  master  and  men  lose  each  other  to  their 
mutual  exasperation;  mutual,  I  say,  for  though  the  bwana 
alone  is  permitted  to  relieve  his  feelings,  by  swearing  at 
innocent  and  guilty  alike,  you  may  depend  the  tired  porters 
"feel  damn"  (as  the  boy  did  whose  father  licked  him  for 
swearing),  and  in  the  rainy  season,  which  is  also  the  best 
hunting  season,  master  and  men  often  get  needlessly  wet,  for 
though  on  the  approach  of  a  storm,  camp  should  be  pitched, 
an  African  law  of  Mede  and  Persian  forbids  the  most 
undisciplined  sefari  to  camp  till  it  has  found  its  bwana. 

When  you  hunt,  hunt;  when  you  march,  march,  I  have 
always  found  to  be  as  good  an  axiom  as  in  the  Rockies. 
We  had  out  there  a  cook  once  who  not  content  with  his  own 
job,  believed  himself  to  have  a  heaven-born  eye  "for 
country."  One  day  there  was  a  difference  of  opinion 
as  to  the  trail  to  take  to  next  water  —  a  long  way  off. 
The  cook  was  sure.  So  he  went  one  way  and  the  wagon 
another.  We  camped  tired,  baked  with  August  heat, 
in  "bad  land"  country.  Sunset  came.  No  cook.  Eight 
o'clock,  none.  Nine!  At  ten  a  miserable  wreck  of  a 
footsore  man  stumbled  in  and  sat  down  to  think.  He 
asked  for  a  drink  of  whiskey,  and  then  quietly  said,  "If 
God  gives  me  strength,  I'll  never  again  leave  the  cook 
wagon."  We  all  roared  with  laughter  and  he  joined  in. 

The  sefari  should  however  be  prepared  to  do  more 
than  mere  porterage,  and  camp  making.  It  is  your  moving 
household  and  army.  The  Wanyamwazi  stand  for  the 
housekeeping  part  of  it  and  for  nothing  more.  They 
are,  taken  by  themselves,  like  lost  children  in  a  new  country. 


THE  SEFARI  41 

Their  eye  for  country  is  poor.  They  are  superstitiously 
afraid  of  strange  people,  and  rhino  have  a  terror  for  them. 
Let  but  one  of  these  beasts  come  within  fifty  yards  of  the 
marching  line,  and  no  well  drilled  battalion  of  infantry 
ever  grounded  their  musket  butts  with  more  simultaneous 
ring,  than  will  they  throw  down  their  loads,  and  take  to 
the  nearest  tree.  You  cannot  make  assistant  gunbearers 
out  of  these.  If  your  syce  is  useless,  or  runs  away,  the 
chances  are  you  cannot  replace  him  from  among  fifty  of 
them.  They  cannot  often  be  taught  to  skin  well  or  to 
take  care  of  heads  and  trophies,  which  here,  in  the  changing 
weather,  require  the  greatest  watchfulness,  and  some  skill, 
too.  It  will  be  seen,  then,  that  there  are  many  important 
items  of  sefari  life  they  are  in  no  wise  fitted  to  fill.  Now, 
one  of  the  important  things  to  remember  in  making  up  a 
working  sefari  is  to  so  organize  it,  that  within  its  ranks 
are  to  be  found  men  who  can  fill  gaps  unexpectedly  made 
in  those  ranks.  Sickness  may  disable  many  of  your  de- 
pendable men  for  a  time,  or  your  own  change  of  plans, 
or  change  of  country,  may  result  in  some  of  your  fellows 
taking  their  wages,  as  they  have  a  right  to,  and  leaving 
you.  Others  will  misbehave  or  prove  too  incompetent 
to  be  of  further  use,  and  to  retain  such  is  but  to  weaken 
your  discipline.  Their  places  must  somehow  be  filled 
and  for  this  you  must  fall  back  on  the  body  of  your  sefari. 
My  first  sefari  were  all  Wanyamwazi.  I  had  them, 
because  I  was  told,  and  told  truly,  they  were  the  best 
porters  in  Africa.  The  consequences  were,  I  found 
myself  with  a  body  of  men  who  could  march  anywhere 
and  could  do  little  else.  They  could  pitch  my  tent 
admirably,  but  could  not  save  my  skins  or  heads.  As 
gunbearers,  they  knew  nothing  of  game,  where  to  look 
for  it,  or  how  to  kill  it. 

In  a  tight  place  they  always  ran  away.  Not  one  of  them 
could  track,  only  one  of  them  could  skin.  That  sefari 


42  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

was  not  a  success.  Not  to  be  too  prolix,  I  will  state  what 
a  sefari  should  further  consist  of. 

There  should  be  interpreters,  men  who  can  speak  to 
the  Massai,  Kiuyuk,  Sambowru  or  N'dorobo  or  any 
tribes  occupying  the  country  you  intend  to  explore  or  hunt 
in.  As  I  say  in  another  place,  the  services  of  the  local 
native  are  often  of  utmost  importance,  and  unless  you  can 
communicate  freely  with  him,  not  only  in  a  few  jumbled 
half  understood  words,  you  will  often  fail,  though  your 
perseverance  in  travelling  has  brought  you  to  the  verge 
of  a  most  gratifying  success. 

Quite  as  important  is  the  tracker,  I  have  written  of 
him  also  elsewhere.  Look  long  and  patiently  for  him! 
When  he  is  found,  hold  him  fast.  Let  his  burden  be  light 
day  by  day,  or  let  him  have  no  burden  at  all.  Then,  if 
you  are  bent  on  lion,  you  must  furnish  yourself  with  some- 
one else  besides  your  specially  chosen  and  highly  paid 
gunbearer.  Lion  hunting  must  have,  as  it  deserves,  a 
chapter  to  itself.  I  shall  content  myself  for  the  present  by 
saying  that  there  are  many  parts  of  the  country  where 
more  lions  can  be  brought  to  bag  by  the  use  of  ponies 
than  the  most  persevering  and  expert  sportsman  can  get 
by  foot.  Lion  riding  needs  one,  better  two,  mounted 
Somali.  Somali  cost  money,  and  often  cost  besides 
that  an  immense  amount  of  annoyance.  They  are  every- 
thing that  is  bad,  but  cowards,  and  lion  riding  needs  a 
plucky  man.  They  are  fair  horsemen,  though  they  seldom 
take  good  care  of  a  horse,  and  they  ride  light. 

For  a  long  time  I  scorned  the  advice  of  one  or  two 
knowing  friends  who  urged  Somali  on  me.  But  circum- 
stances in  the  end  proved  too  much  for  me.  I  found 
myself  in  a  country  full  of  swamps  and  full  of  lions,  where 
the  ground  was  made  for  fast  riding,  and  where,  work  hard 
as  I  might,  I  could  get  no  nearer  to  my  lordly  game  than 
half  a  mile  or  so.  To  see  one,  two,  nay,  as  I  have,  ten, 


THE  SEFARI  43 

tawny  heads  led  by  a  veritable  black  maned  king,  go  safely 
loping  off  in  a  level  country,  while  you  gaze  helplessly  at 
them  through  your  glasses,  that  dark  mane  falling,  as  it 
seems  to  your  longing  eyes,  almost  to  the  ground  —  almost 
sure,  too,  to  fall  a  prize  to  some  lucky  fellow  who  brings 
ponies  along,  and  has  only  been  weeks  in  the  country 
to  your  months.  Well,  I  fear  green  jealousy  is  a  mortal 
sin,  but  if  ever  it  be  mercifully  counted  a  venal,  it  is  under 
such  circumstances.  I  have  been  tempted,  and  have,  I 
fear,  sadly  fallen.  Next  trip  to  save  my  soul,  I  will  sacri- 
fice my  pocket,  and  get  me  two  ponies  and  a  Somali  rider. 

One  of  the  most  delightful  things  about  sefari  life  is 
that  there  should  be  no  hurry  in  it,  and  I  fear  I  shall  be 
accused  of  wasting  much  time,  as  I  seem  to  dally  with 
my  black  family.  But  all  I  can  say  is,  there  shall  be  pur- 
pose in  my  digressions,  and  if  I  take  a  zigzag  path  to  reach 
my  camping  ground,  I  only  do  what  every  sefari  does. 

No  tribe,  native  to  this  part  of  Africa,  except  the  un- 
approachable N'dorobo,  of  whom  more  anon,  compare 
as  hunters  with  the  Wakamba.  Two  or  three  at  least 
of  these  should  find  places  in  your  little  company.  They 
will  turn  out  willingly  in  the  evening,  even  after  a  hard 
day's  march,  and  search  for  fresh  "sign "  for  you.  They  will 
assist  your  gunbearer  in  skinning  out  heads,  or  preparing 
hides  and  bird  skins,  and  from  among  them  you  can  most 
probably  secure  a  second  gunboy  if  you  have  not  already 
engaged  one.  They  are  very  clannish,  and  it  is  better 
to  have  a  small  group  of  them,  than  only  one  or  two. 

And  this  leads  me  to  say  a  few  words  about  that  friend, 
companion,  guide,  and  mentor,  the  gunboy.  As  in  Ireland 
so  in  East  Africa,  everyone  young  and  old,  as  soon  as  he 
can  talk  and  as  long  as  he  can  totter,  is  a  "boy/' 

Your  gunboy  should  have  many  qualities  —  he  must 
have  one.  He  must  stand.  Now  that  is  the  one  thing 
it  is  generally  hard  to  get  him  to  do,  and  considering  how 


44  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

often  and  needlessly  his  life  is  risked  by  stupid  or  reckless, 
to  say  nothing  of  cowardly,  sportsmen,  and  for  some  unac- 
countable reason  men  who  are  utterly  lacking  in  nerve 
(I  will  put  it  as  charitably  as  I  can)  do  sometimes  elect 
to  hunt  big  game,  it  is  small  wonder  that,  having  been  mauled 
or  tossed  once,  he  is  shy  of  undergoing  that  experience 
again.  All  the  same,  if  he  will  not  stand,  he  is  worse  than 
useless.  The  Wanyamwazi  generally  won't.  The  Kikuyu 
do  not  pretend  to.  The  Swahili  will  if  they  are  sure  of 
their  bwana's  shooting  powers.  The  Somali  almost  always 
do,  but  then  they  set  a  monstrously  high  price  on  their 
services,  often  demanding  75  rupees  or  more  a  month. 
They  are  careless  gun  cleaners,  break  everything  and 
place  the  blame  on  someone  else.  They  are  lazy  around 
camp,  get  others  to  do  the  work  they  are  paid  for  doing. 
They  are  exclusive,  fastidious,  quarrelsome.  But  they  are 
keen  hunters  and  brave  men,  and  unless  a  good  Wakamba 
can  be  secured,  one  must,  for  dangerous  shooting,  be  taken 
along.  They  are  absurdly  confident  of  their  own  powers 
of  straight  shooting,  which  are  usually  of  the  poorest,  and 
it  is  often  necessary  to  teach  them  a  sharp  lesson  on  the 
very  first  opportunity. 

When  the  sefari  has  settled  a  little  into  its  "stride," 
have  your  gunboys  up  and  let  them  understand  that  you 
know  your  own  business  and  theirs  as  well.  That  you  will 
brook  no  disobedience,  no  departure  from  settled  orders. 
Such  a  gun  must  be  carried,  always.  Such  cartridges 
must  be  placed  always  in  such  a  pouch.  Your  rifle  must 
be  handed  you  in  a  certain  way,  etc.  Then  enforce  these 
commands  by  constant  drill,  till  automatically,  these  men, 
on  whom  your  life  and  limb  will  depend  some  day,  know 
instinctively  what  is  expected  from  them.  It  is  strange 
how  many  sportsmen,  not  without  experience  in  big  game 
shooting,  neglect  such  necessary  precautions  as  these, 
and  then  loudly  denounce  the  stupidity  or  cowardice  of 


THE  SEFARI  45 

the  gunboy  who  has,  they  imagine,  failed  them.  They 
themselves  only  are  to  blame.  Far  more  natives  are  mauled, 
tossed  or  killed  than  the  white  men  they  serve.  It  may 
require  some  nerve  to  follow  dangerous  game,  when  wounded, 
into  thick  cover,  even  when  you  have  a  powerful  rifle  in 
your  hands,  and  are  confident  of  your  power  to  instan- 
taneously use  it.  But  it  surely  requires  far  greater  courage 
to  do  so,  where  you  carry  another  man's  rifle,  which  under 
no  circumstances  are  you  permitted  to  fire.  Yet  is  this 
the  gunboy's  fate.  He  depends  entirely  on  his  bwana> 
and  many  a  bwana  proves  but  a  broken  reed  to  trust  to. 
All  the  same,  no  gunboy  should  be  permitted  to  fire  the  rifle 
he  carries.  There  can  be  no  two  opinions  on  this  point. 
Yet  a  sharp  lesson,  enforcing  immediate  obedience  to  such 
fire  discipline,  is  often  needed. 

When  my  first  long-waited-for  lion  charged  and  charged 
very  quickly,  I  saw  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  that  Dooda, 
my  Somali  who  squatted  beside  me,  was  on  the  point  of 
firing  my  heavy  double  .450  cordite  rifle  (my  reserve  gun) 
at  the  great  beast  whose  head  and  tail  could  alone  be  seen 
as  he  bounded  toward  us.  I  had  to  give  him  a  sharp  jog 
with  my  right  elbow  under  the  jaw  which  put  both  him 
and  the  rifle  out  of  action  for  several  minutes.  When  the 
affair  was  over  and  the  fine  beast  turned  "paws  up," 
Dooda,  to  do  him  justice,  forgot  for  the  moment  his  rude 
reminder,  and  cheered  lustily,  but  as  soon  as  the  first  con- 
gratulations were  over,  he  ruefully  pointed  to  his  jaw  and 
groaned.  "You  do  kill  me!"  It  was  not  quite  as  bad  as 
that.  And  though,  on  another  occasion,  he  fell  back  on 
me  so  rapidly  that  he  almost  knocked  me  down,  he  never 
fired  one  of  my  guns,  unless  I  told  him  to.  On  the  whole, 
Dooda  was  a  good  gunbearer,  and  though  he  had  a  genius 
for  making  other  men  do  his  work,  he  made  no  trouble 
in  our  sefari. 

My  Wakamba  "  Kongoni,"  however,  was  a  man  after 


46  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

my  heart:  A  good  tracker,  a  splendid  hunter,  a  self-sacri- 
ficing guardian,  a  heathen  and  a  gentleman,  all  this  and 
more,  and  I  believe  we  shall  remember  each  other  so  long 
as  we  live.  I  never  knew  him  to  confess  to  being  tired. 
He  always  did  his  own  job  well,  and  what  was  wonderful 
in  a  native,  he  seemed  to  take  genuine  pleasure  in  helping 
less  efficient  workers  to  do  theirs.  He  would,  without 
any  request  being  made,  aid  John  in  the  tent,  arrange 
my  bed,  help  with  cooking  or  track  a  lost  mule.  I  would 
find  him  fastening  with  a  firm  knot  the  shaky  bundle 
of  some  tired  or  inefficient  porter.  The  totos  loved  him 
(I  tell  the  totos  story  later).  He  would  have  a  handful 
of  ground  nuts  or  a  bit  of  sugar  cane  for  them.  As  we 
marched  along,  some  porter  behind  us  was  sure  to  find 
on  a  rock  or  stump  Kongoni's  cigarette,  not  burned  to  a 
stump.  Don't  smile!  That  meant  a  real  bit  of  self- 
denial,  and  met  with  appreciation.  If  a  man  broke  down 
Kongoni  was  the  first  to  take  up  his  load,  a  thing  no  self- 
respecting  gunboy  was  supposed  to  do.  "Brownie"  I 
christened  him,  for,  as  his  photograph  shows,  he  was  the 
very  picture  of  one  of  the  "Brownies."  He  was  very 
strong,  though  he  had  no  more  flesh  on  him  than  has  a 
Daddy  Longlegs,  and  he  couldn't  hit  a  barn  door,  if  his 
life  depended  on  it.  Clear  grit  all  through,  devoted  to 
his  little  wife,  a  true  friend,  a  real  man,  is  "Brownie." 
I  greatly  fear  I  shall  be  accused  of  inventing  an  impossible 
black  paragon,  but  after  eight  months  of  camp  life  and 
danger  shared  together,  I  may  reasonably,  I  think,  claim 
to  know  something  whereof  I  speak,  and  I  am  only  describ- 
ing a  man  as  I  found  him  and  proved  him. 

The  sefari  cook  is  an  important  personage.  He  liter- 
ally makes  you  or  mars  you,  and  a  good,  cleanly  and 
honest  cook  is  not  found  every  day.  Still,  the  East  African 
has  a  natural  bent  for  cooking.  He  cooks  his  own  rice 
when  he  is  not  in  too  great  a  hurry,  as  none  but  the  man 


THE  SEFARI  47 

of  the  East  can  cook  it,  and  since  you  eat  rice  twice  a  day, 
that  is  something  to  begin  on. 

My  cook  Peter  was  a  friend  of  three  years  ago.  I  had 
suffered  at  his  hands  and  in  consequence  he  had,  on  at 
least  one  occasion,  suffered  at  mine,  or,  rather,  at  the  hands 
of  my  official  representative,  the  askari.*  Peter  knew  he 
deserved  it,  and  so  bore  no  grudge.  Indeed,  had  I  defrauded 
him  of  his  just  dues,  I  should  have  fallen  greatly  in  his 
estimation.  When  he  heard,  therefore,  that  I  had  returned 
to  the  country,  he  at  once  sought  me  out  and  begged  for 
his  old  job.  His  weak  point,  I  well  remembered,  had  been 
his  bread,  and  good,  well  baked,  well  raised,  yeast  bread 
(not  baking-flour  abominations),  is  one  of  the  few  things 
absolutely  necessary  to  health.  Many  who  do  not  know 
Africa,  nor  realize  that  they  are  under  the  equator,  eat 
little  rice,  or  fruit,  or  vegetables,  and  do  eat  large  quantities 
of  the  very  stringy  game  meat  which  is  the  only  flesh 
usually  obtainable.  They  are  very  likely  to  take  trouble 
home  with  them.  I  made  immediate  inquiries  as  to 
whether  Peter  had  been  to  a  baking  school.  He  assured 
me  he  had,  and  that  by  now  his  productions  were  un- 
rivalled. His  poverty-stricken  appearance  certainly  belied 
his  optimism,  and  I  pointed  this  out  to  him.  But  he  was 
prodigal  of  excuses,  said  he  had  lost  my  "chits,"  and  had  been 
out  of  a  job  for  a  long  time.  I  sent  him  off  under  John's 
charge  to  bake  a  loaf.  While  his  guardian  looked  on  to 
make  sure  that  he  had  no  unfair  assistance,  and  as  the 
result  proved  fairly  satisfactory,  I  reengaged  him. 

Little  Peter  was  really  not  a  bad  cook,  and  he  was  quite 
willing  to  learn,  which  is  more  than  you  can  say  about 
all  cooks,  out  of  Africa  as  well  as  in  it.  His  things,  if  he 
was  constantly  looked  after,  improved.  He  made  ad- 
mirable soup.  His  curries  were  excellent.  With  the 
aid  of  a  mincing  machine  (make  a  note  of  this  and  always 

*  When  men  have  to  be  punished,  the  sefari  askaris,  superintended  by  the  headman,  inflict  it. 


48  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

carry  one)  he  reduced  the  toughest  kongoni  to  something 
edible,  and  before  the  trip  was  over  he  was  equal  to  roasting 
quite  appetizingly  a  partridge  or  duck. 

He  had  to  be  outfitted,  of  course,  i.  e.,  provided  with 
khaki  coat,  trousers  and  boots,  for  the  rags  he  stood  up 
in  were  not  decent.  Amid  all  the  dire  misfortunes  that  had 
overtaken  him  since  he  was  with  me,  he  had  managed, 
he  told  me  with  evident  pride,  to  retain  three  hats,  and  he 
produced  them.  Two  were  like  his  trousers,  and  were 
hats  only  by  courtesy.  But  the  third  was  a  brand-new 
blazing  scarlet  tarbushe.  His  belongings  he  said  had  been 
stolen  the  same  time  as  his  chits,  and  he  saved  his  hats 
from  the  fate  of  his  clothes  by  wearing  them  night  and  day. 
Peter  with  two  black  hats,  and  the  tarbushe,  of  course, 
on  top,  was  a  sight  not  easily  forgotten.  As  he  marched 
along,  a  kettle  usually  in  each  hand,  the  flaming  red  top 
hamper  would  tip  rakishly  first  to  one  side  then  to  the 
other.  When  we  got  among  game,  I  suppose  to  make 
assurance  doubly  sure,  and  to  save  its  loved  colour  from 
the  drenching  rains  of  the  wet  season,  which  we  were  then 
encountering,  he  actually  extemporized  a  fourth  and  most 
serviceable  head  covering  of  raw  kongoni  skin,  which  he 
drew  down  over  all  his  precious  headgear.  The  last  was 
all  you  saw  on  his  head  till  the  end  of  the  trip,  when  oily, 
but  otherwise  good  as  new,  the  temporary  eclipsed  tar- 
boushe  shone  forth  in  tarnished  splendour,  to  celebrate 
his  return  to  Nairobi  and  civilization. 

I  began  with  the  headman,  the  director  and  guide  of 
my  little  company.  I  have  come  now  to  its  tail  —  the  toto 
—  its  apprentice  boy,  not  entered  on  your  list  of  men. 
You  have  no  knowledge  of  his  existence  till  some  day, 
from  somewhere,  he  bobs  up  before  you,  just  a  toto.  It 
may  be  you  see  him  first,  though  this  is  unlikely,  wedged 
in  among  the  legs  of  a  dozen  or  fifteen  men,  in  one  of  the 
already  dreadfully  crowded  third  class  compartments 


THE  SEFARI  49 

of  the  train,  that  is  carrying  all  your  party  to  some  wayside 
station.  It  may  be  he  has  so  far  escaped  you  entirely,  as 
he  surely  has  the  ticket  collector,  and  your  first  sight  of 
him,  is  as  fagged  out,  he  totters  along,  carrying  a  much 
too  heavy  load  for  his  little  boy's  body,  far  behind  the  rear- 
most askari,  on  some  long,  hot,  marching  day.  Thus  it 
was  I  first  came  to  know  him. 

"Is  he  a  little  fellow  following  his  father?"  I  asked. 
"Oh,  no,  he  is  just  a  toto."  To  my  ignorance  on  that 
my  first  sefari,  this  meant  nothing  at  all.  I  was  soon  to 
learn.  The  boy  on  that  occasion  was  on  the  point  of  col- 
lapse, and,  fortunately,  I  had  determined  to  walk  myself 
at  the  rear  of  the  column,  as  the  way  was  long,  water  dis- 
tant, and  the  lava  rock  we  were  traversing  terribly  hard 
for  all  our  feet.  The  boy  was  not  more  than  fourteen 
years  old  at  most,  but  had  been  ill  or  underfed,  for  he 
lacked  the  robustness  of  totos  generally.  I  halted  the  men, 
and  asked  who  claimed  him,  and  how  he  came  to  be  carrying, 
as  he  was,  a  man's  load,  not  less.  Five  or  six  big  porters 
came  up.  Still  I  was  mystified,  and  only  after  some  time 
did  I  learn  that  I  was  supposed  to  have  no  responsbility 
for  him  at  all.  He  was  not  on  the  "strength "of  the  sefari. 
He  was  just  a  toto,  hired  by  the  aforesaid  five  or  six  to  do 
their  little  jobs  around  camp,  carry  water,  cook  food, 
and  carry  at  least  a  part  of  their  potio.  Had  he  a  father  ?• 
No.  A  mother  ?  Doubtful.  Generally  these  little  black 
mites  are  orphans.  Many  such  there  are,  alas!  They 
hang  around  government  stations  claiming  no  one, 
recognized  by  none.  In  some  sore  strait  some  helpless 
woman  laid  him  at  a  stranger's  hut  door,  to  live  or  die 
as  it  might  be.  Many  of  the  totos  show  too  plainly  traces 
of  that  early  disaster.  Rickety,  consumptive,  half-starved 
atoms  of  humanity,  who  yet  face  with  an  African's  quite 
wonderful  cheeriness,  the  chances  of  sefari  life,  because 
it  offers  them  plentiful  food  and  some  sort  of  a  home. 


5o  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Others  there  are  of  them,  of  course,  who  are  in  a  far  better 
condition,  whose  mothers  have  died  and  who  come  along 
with  their  fathers.  The  worst  used  toto  I  ever  knew  was 
such  an  one.  I  found  him  one  dreadfully  hot  day  when 
we  were  marching  without  water  for  eight  hours,  struggling 
along  two  miles  behind  his  useless  father,  who  since  he 
was  an  askari,  carried  not  one  ounce  himself,  but  his  short 
Schneider  carbine.  That  half-starved  child  was  struggling 
under  four  men's  potio  for  eight  days,  /.  e.,  48  pounds  of 
meal  beside  a  large  sufuria  and  his  father's  sleeping  mat, 
quite  60  pounds  in  all.  I  was  very  ignorant,  as  I  say, 
of  African  matters  then,  but  that  day  taught  me  a  lesson, 
and  ever  after  I  make  a  point  of  turning  up  unexpectedly 
at  the  tail  of  the  column  and  staying  there  sometimes  for 
hours,  when  long  marches  have  to  be  made.  No  totos 
should  be  admitted  to  any  sefari  till  they  have  passed  the 
bwana's  inspection,  and  the  men  who  engage  them  should 
be  obliged  to  come  forward  and  show  themselves.  Nor 
should  these  men  be  paid  their  wages  (this  is  very  impor- 
tant) when  the  sefari  is  paid  off,  till  you  are  sure  the  toto 
has  received  his  modest  and  well-earned  dole.* 

In  this  poor  child's  case  I  was  able  to  see  rough  justice 
done.  We  had  fully  two  hundred  miles  steady  marching 
ahead  of  us,  and  for  every  mile  of  it,  his  father  carried  that 
load,  while  he  marched  free.  I  got  him  to  hospital  on  my 
return,  and  after  long  sickness  he  at  last  recovered  from 
that  awful  day's  march. 

It  is  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  scarcely  any  sign  of 
coming  day  yet,  but  every  one  in  the  sefari  except  perhaps 
yourself,  from  headman  to  toto  is  stirring.  The  little 
tents  into  which  from  five  to  seven  men  pack  themselves, 
like  sardines,  are  being  taken  down,  and  sleeping  mats 
and  personal  whatnots  are  rolled  tightly  together.  The 

*  From  one  rupee  to  three  rupees  a  month. 


THE  SEFARI  51 

great  pile  of  baggage  in  front  of  the  bwana's  tent  has  its 
green  ground  sheet  covering  removed,  and  the  men's  loads 
are  placed  in  a  long  line.  The  men  like  starting  early, 
and  camp  should,  if  possible,  be  reached  by  midday.  You 
hurry  through  your  breakfast.  But  even  if  you  are  up 
as  soon  as  your  men,  and  you  should  be,  for  you  take  a 
much  longer  time  to  get  ready  than  they  do,  you  are  aware 
of  watchful  eyes  and  waiting  figures,  ready  to  pounce  on 
and  carry  away  any  and  everything  you  are  using.  The 
table  goes  to  one  porter's  load,  your  chair  to  another,  your 
second  cup  of  coffee  makes  the  man  who  carries  the  canteen 
shift  uneasily  from  leg  to  leg.  He  is  mentally  calculating 
how  long  behind  the  others  he  will  be,  before  that  closed 
and  locked  canteen  is  handed  over  to  his  tender  mercies 
for  the  day. 

Lay  away  in  its  chosen  place  the  night  before,  every  thing 
you  want  in  the  morning.  If  you  do  not,  you  will  find  the 
world  locked  up  against  you,  and  it  is  a  hard-hearted 
bwana  indeed  who  will  make  an  anxious  porter  take  off 
the  many  windings  of  his  porter's  kamba  (tying  string), 
and  stand  over  him  while  most  unwillingly  he  pulls  the 
whole  wonderful  conglomeration  to  pieces.  To  rearrange 
a  load  once  it  has  been  fastened  up,  is  something  the  best 
porters  thoroughly  dislike  to  do;  and  now,  each  man 
taking  up  the  box  or  bag  assigned  him,  goes  back  to  his 
own  camp  fire  and  fastens  his  day's  burden  together  with 
much  coiling  and  twisting  and  tying  of  "granny  knots." 
Next,  he  deftly  twists  his  scarlet  cotton  blanket  round  his 
head,  in  a  compact  turban,  so  that  on  it  rests  the  weight 
of  his  load,  and  stands  waiting  the  order  bendika  (load  up). 
When  this  is  shouted,  up  go  a  hundred  bundles,  and  the 
porter,  balancing  the  weight  carefully,  stretches  out  his 
foot  for  his  porter's  stick  (something  none  of  them  will 
travel  without)  which  he  grasps,  yes,  grasps,  between  his 
big  toe  and  the  next,  and  bending  his  knee,  while  he  holds 


52  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

his  body  erect,  places  it  thus  monkeywise,  in  his  hand. 
Now,  with  whistling  of  reed  pipes  and  blowing  of  horns 
we  are  off,  the  head  porter  carrying  the  heaviest  load, 
probably  the  bwana's  tent,  leads  the  way,  and  the  head- 
man with  an  askari  or  two,  and  some  spare  men  bringing  up 
the  rear.  The  tail  of  laden  men  has  scarcely  left  the  circle 
of  camp  fires,  before  down  swoop  the  brown  kites,  and  ex- 
pectant vultures  flap  from  farther  to  nearer  trees. 

Six  hours  is  a  sufficiently  good  march,  and  a  well  ordered 
sefari  will  make  in  that  time  from  twelve  to  fifteen  miles, 
with  ten  minutes  rest  every  two  and  a  half  or  three  hours. 

Even  if  they  are  strangers  to  the  country  the  men 
instinctively  know  when  they  are  nearing  camp.  The 
column  closes  up.  The  weird  music  rises  shrilly,  and 
lead  by  the  Wanyamwazi  who  grunt  one  of  their  marching 
songs  as  each  man  taps  the  water  bottle  of  the  man  in  front 
of  him,  the  long,  twisting  line  comes  marching  in. 

Not  seldom  the  afternoon  storm,  black  and  angry,  is 
rolling  up,  and  then  it  is  that  you  reap  the  advantages  of 
having  well  drilled  your  men.  There  is  no  confusion,  each 
knows  his  work  and  deftly  does  it.  The  heavy  tents  have, 
from  the  first  day  out,  allotted  to  them  their  team  of  men. 
These  teams  race  against  each  other  with  a  will,  and  there 
is  a  good  deal  of  emulation  among  the  men  as  to  which 
tent  shall  first  stand  pitched  true  and  taut.  When  the 
bwana's  tent  is  in  place,  the  pile  of  camp  baggage,  horns, 
hides,  provision,  boxes,  potio,  saddles,  ammunition,  etc., 
is  laid  on  brushwood  or  logs,  a  trench  dug  around  it,  and  the 
whole  covered  with  a  waterproof  ground  sheet.  Then, 
like  magic,  the  pretty  low  tents  of  the  porters  spring  up  in 
horseshoe  curve  round  the  large  tents,  a  thorn  boma  is 
built  for  the  donkeys  or  riding  mules,  if  it  is  a  lion  country. 
Wood  is  cut,  water  brought,  and  in  front  of  fifteen  or  twenty 
little  habitations  cheerful  tongues  of  fire  rise  fragrantly 
in  the  evening  air.  When  they  have  cooked  and  eaten 


THE  SEFARI  53 

their  porridge  the  men  gather  in  groups  round  the  fires 
of  the  most  popular.  Songs  begin  to  rise  first  from  one 
quarter,  then  from  several.  The  Somalis  produce  from 
somewhere  a  snowy  white  cotton  robe  and  kneeling  on  their 
mats,  chant  loudly  their  evening  prayer.  Within  ten  feet 
of  these  stoical  Mohammedans,  a  Wakamba  dance  is  most 
probably  in  full  swing,  or  Kikuyus  are  chatting  loudly 
one  of  their  endless  minor  songs,  with  leader  and  chorus. 
The  clatter  of  laughing  and  story  telling  in  four  or  five 
languages  rattles  on  ceaselessly  till  eight  or  nine  o'clock, 
when  the  askari  on  guard  shouts  Kalale!  (shut  up), 
and  obedient  silence  falls  on  the  sefari. 

As  you  lie  awake,  you  wonder  at  the  stillness  of  the 
African  night.  Often  there  are  no  sounds  but  the  soft 
treading  of  the  watch  as  he  replenishes  the  fire  before 
your  tent,  and,  perhaps,  the  tinkling*  of  innumerable 
frogs  refreshed  by  copious  dew.  You  may  hear  the  rasping 
cry  of  the  leopard,  such  a  sound  as  a  saw,  badly  set,  makes 
when  drawn  through  green  wood.  Or  the  quite  indescrib- 
able howl  of  the  ubiquitous  hyena  uttered  in  any  and  all 
cadences,  and,  perhaps,  a  distant  lion  roaring  a  signal 
to  his  mate. 

*When  the  rainy  season  begins, quite  a  number  of  different  frogs  join  in  the  night's  chorus, and  never 
cease  their  croaking  till  day  breaks.  But  one  tiny  little  fellow  does  not  wait  for  the  rains,  and  seems 
to  need  no  other  encouragement  than  that  afforded  him  by  a  plentiful  dew.  Soon  as  it  begins  to  fall,  he 
takes  up  his  chanting  and  it  is  as  though  a  thousand  elfin  silver  triangles  were  touched  by  minute 
bars  of  steel.  A  silvery  tinkling  sound. 


CHAPTER  III 

ACROSS    THE    MAU    ESCARPMENT    TO    LION 

LAND 

A  LDAMA  RAVINE  BOMA*  stands  on  a  high,  flat 
/JL  topped  hill  commanding  an  immensely  extensive 
and  very  beautiful  view.  To  the  east  rises  the  fine  Aberdare 
range,  not  yet  accurately  surveyed,  but  probably  some  of 
its  summits  are  14,000  feet  high.  To  the  north,  surrounded 
by  a  very  tumult  of  gorges  and  precipices,  lies  Lake  Baringo. 
On  the  west  and  northwest  the  wall  of  the  forest  clad  Mau 
lifts  its  fine  purple  masses. 

Evening  is  the  best  time  to  climb  to  the  neat  native 
village  on  the  very  summit  of  the  hill.  Here  the  askaris's 
families  live.  The  red  earth  is  swept  twice  a  day,  no  trace 
of  rubbish  anywhere,  and  the  red  thatched  circular  cottages 
stand  in  orderly  rows.  As  the  sun  sinks  behind  the  great 
woodland,  a  flood  of  such  evening  light  as  is  only  to  be  seen 
in  Africa,  pours  all  over  the  varied  country  you  are  looking 
down  on  from  a  height  of  almost  eight  thousand  feet.  At 
your  feet  are  some  of  the  richest  shambas  in  the  whole 
Protectorate.  In  them  two  heavy  crops  are  raised  yearly, 
and  I  measured  a  peach  tree  in  the  government  shamba 
fifteen  inches  in  diameter,  only  seven  years  old. 

For  forty  miles  the  land  slopes  eastward  and  northward, 
The  country  toward  Baringo  is  very  dry  and  sandy.  The 
mountains  on  either  side  seem  to  catch  and  hold  the  rain 
clouds,  for  the  rainfall  at  the  boma  and  on  the  Aberdare 
is  excessive;  in  the  valley  it  is  light  and  precarious,  and 

*  Boma  means  many  things,  a  fenced  enclosure  to  guard  against  lions,  hence  any  fenced  place. 
Government  posts  in  earlier  and  unsettled  days  were  always  rudely  fortified. 

54 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  55 

near  Baringo,  were  it  not  for  clever  native  irrigation,  the 
people  would  often  starve.  Three  years  ago  I  tramped 
down  the  valley  from  Nakuru  and  found  large  quantities  of 
game,  but  most  of  it  now  has  gone  elsewhere.  But  one 
sportsman's  prize  may  still  be  gathered  amid  those  stony  and 
sunbaked  ridges  —  the  greater  koodo.  On  the  precipi- 
tous slopes  near  Baringo,  and  in  the  broken,  almost  water- 
less country  on  the  southern  side  of  that  lake,  he  is  to  be 
had  for  the  diligent  seeking. 

North  of  this,  beyond  Baringo,  koodo  are  fairly  abundant, 
but,  alas,  the  tantalizing  game  reserve  line  is  there  drawn 
across  your  path,  and,  into  this  "northern  reserve,"  common 
mortal  may  not,  at  present,  enter.  Later,  I  hope  to  have 
something  to  say  about  the  game  reserve  policy  which  now 
obtains.  Game  should  be  preserved.  But  in  my  humble 
judgment,  the  best  way  to  do  so,  is  not  the  present  way. 
Now,  great  areas  are  permanently  closed  against  sportsmen, 
while  within  them,  native  hunters  and  some  unprincipled 
poachers,  work  their  will.  If  a  man  is  willing  to  lie,  it  is 
impossible  for  any  official  to  say  where  he  got  his  trophies. 
There  are  no  fences,  only  one  or  two  game  wardens  for 
several  hundreds  of  thousands  of  square  miles.  Once 
launched,  a  sefari  can  go  anywhere  and  no  man  be  the 
wiser.  A  far  better  plan  surely  would  be  to  have  several 
preserved  areas,  each  with  its  own  game  officer,  and  to 
open  one  or  two  each  year,  keeping  them  open  for  a  set  time 
only,  then  closing  them  again.  The  old  bucks  carrying 
the  finest  trophies  would,  if  this  plan  were  adopted, 
be  shot  down,  and  the  herds  would  gain,  not  lose  thereby. 
Any  way,  you  cannot  get  into  the  northern  preserve  at 
present,  even  to  take  one  greater  koodo  unless  you  have 
a  "pull."  I  hadn't  and  so  did  not  go.  There  is  a 
chance,  however,  as  I  said,  of  finding  this  finest  of  all 
the  antelopes  to  the  south  of  the  forbidden  land,  and  it 
is  worth  trying. 


56  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

One  mile  from  the  ravine  boma  the  trail  toward  Guash'- 
ngishu  plateau,  whither  I  am  bound,  plunges  across  the  Mau 
forest.  There  its  belt  is  about  fourteen  miles  wide,  but 
the  sinuosities  of  the  path  make  it  a  hard  day's  tramping. 
If  there  has  been  much  rain,  you  slide  down  hill  and  slip  up, 
till  you  feel  you  are  working  out  the  old  problem  of  the  snail 
that  crawled  up  six  feet  of  wall  at  night  and  slipped  back 
five  feet  eleven  inches  during  the  day.  The  miles  seem 
very  long  indeed,  as  you  plod  along  in  the  semi  darkness. 
Mighty  trees,  rising  some  of  them  a  hundred  feet  without 
knot  or  branch,  mostly  junipers,  tower  above  you,  and  dense 
green  tangle,  thick  and  high  as  a  woody  wall,  shuts  you  in; 
progress,  unless  along  the  narrow  well  worn  path,  is  out  of 
the  question. 

The  great  Mau  forest,  which  the  path  crosses  at  a  narrow 
point,  is  well  worth  studying.  Here  and  round  Mount 
Kenia  are  the  future  lumber  regions  of  the  East.  I  fear  I 
run  the  risk  of  wearying  some  by  such  lengthy  reference 
to  the  great  woodland  region.  But  to  me  it  seemed,  not 
from  the  traveller's  or  hunter's  point  of  view  only,  but  from 
the  point  of  view  of  one  wishing  that  all  good  things  may 
come  to  the  dear  old  land  where  he  was  born,  a  possession  so 
important,  an  asset  so  valuable,  that  every  Englishman 
should  be  interested  in  its  safeguarding. 

One  immense  advantage  the  African  lumber  regions  have, 
over  those  of  Canada  and  the  United  States.  They  are 
practically  fireproof.  Let  the  high  grass  fire  come  rolling 
down,  in  as  fierce  a  flood  as  it  may.  Let  even  a  furious 
wind  drive  it  on.  It  sinks,  baffled  and  beaten  down,  at  the 
very  foot  of  those  great,  green  walls.  The  dense  and 
dank  herbage,  like  a  vast,  wet,  enfolding  blanket,  almost 
instantaneously  smothers  it. 

Here,  there  is  a  great  lumber  region  insured  against  fire 
and  as  yet  absolutely  untouched  by  man.  No  local  demand 
for  its  timber  could  possibly  exhaust  even  a  small  fraction 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  57 

of  its  resources.  To-day,  it  cannot  be  reached.  No  rail- 
road comes  near  it.  If  all  the  railroad  facilities  of  the  country 
were  to  be  bent  on  handling  export  from  it  alone,  they 
would  be  absurdly  inadequate. 

But  what  of  the  morrow  ?  What,  when  other  and  nearer 
lumber  regions  are  exhausted  and  Canada  and  the  Baltic 
can  no  longer  supply  pine  wood,  red,  yellow  or  white  ? 
What  of  the  forest  land  then  ?  Great  trees,  many  of  them 
measuring  from  six  to  eleven  feet  in  diameter  at  the  base, 
rise,  tall  and  straight,  knotless  as  reeds,  forty,  sixty,  a 
hundred  feet  into  the  air,  before,  free  of  the  strangling 
embrace  of  their  fellows,  they  burst  forth  with  their  rich, 
heavy  crowns  of  branch  and  leaf.  I  am  no  forester  - 
how  many  grow  to  the  acre  I  cannot  say.  But  I  can  say 
that,  though  I  have  ridden  much  in  our  own  great  woodlands, 
I  seldom  have  seen  a  country  that  would  yield  a  heavier 
return.  The  sugar  pine  groves  in  California  are  finer, 
and  high  on  the  Columbia  River  forty  years  ago  there 
was  an  unequalled  forest.  But  these  Mau  woods  are 
well  worth  looking  after.  What  has  Government  done  ? 
Granted  at  least  one  hundred  and  ninety  two  thousand 
acres  of  the  very  best  of  it,  to  two  or  three  favourite 
concessionaries. 

Of  course,  there  were  certain  conditions  entered  into, 
and  also,  of  course,  as  almost  always  happens  in  this  coun- 
try, those  conditions  proved  to  be  beyond  the  power  of 
either  party  to  keep.  That  stage  of  the  proceedings  has, 
I  believe,  been  reached. 

It  is  hard  to  imagine  any  system  more  hurtful  to  a  land 
which  has  been,  as  this  has,  much  advertised  as  a  white 
mans'  country,  and  which  is  admittedly  hard  to  populate 
with  desirable  immigrants,  than  this  system  of  granting 
great  concessions  to  individuals  or  companies  with  a  "pull." 
Concessions  are  begged  for,  more  with  the  hope  of  pass- 
ing on  the  thing  to  someone  else  at  a  good  profit,  than  of 


58  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

actually  working  them.  Everything  is  tied  up,  no  one 
is  benefited  or  satisfied. 

These  forests  are  their  own  insurance  agents  against  fire. 
Try  as  you  may,  you  cannot  burn  them  down.  No  casual 
farmer  living  on  their  edges,  even  if  he  take  what  his  house 
and  farm  need  from  their  wealth,  can  do  them  any  harm. 
And,  till  a  special  branch  line  is  built,  and  great  outlay 
undertaken,  of  course  no  real  attack  can  be  made  on  the 
lumber.  So  long,  therefore,  as  reasonable  conditions 
are  attached  to  any  farms  granted,  the  timber  is  pretty  safe. 
But  the  concession  of  the  Mau  forest  or  a  great  part  of  it, 
does  serious  harm  in  another  way. 

Every  foot  of  the  road  from  Londiani  to  the  river  that 
bounds  this  region,  and  is  the  actual  dividing  line  between 
it  and  Sergoit  plain,  a  distance  of  seventy  miles 
—  runs  through  the  "concession" — the  land  has  been 
granted  as  well  as  the  wood,  land  fine  as  can  be  seen. 
And  so,  year  after  year,  enviously  and  angrily,  the  would-be 
settler  tramps  behind  his  wagon  those  seventy  long  miles> 
cursing  a  system  of  favouritism,  which  forces  him  to  move 
mile  after  mile  farther  away  from  the  railroad  and  the 
market,  while  here  are  uncounted  farms,  wooded,  sheltered, 
healthy,  nearer  home,  occupied  by  no  one,  yet  denied  to  him. 
He,  ready  to  work  and  willing  to  pay,  reasonably  enough 
asks:  "Where  are  the  signs  of  either  work  done,  or  pay 
made  to  the  Government,  for  this  splendid  demesne  ?" 

The  forest  is  very  silent.  Now  and  then  is  heard  the 
chattering  call  of  the  monkey,  ensconced  far  above  mother 
earth,  in  his  own  upper  sunny  world  of  the  tree  tops,  and 
occasionally  you  notice  a  parrot  or  a  pigeon.  Beneath  in 
the  gloom,  the  rich  loam  bears  few  game  signs.  Now 
and  then  the  rooting  of  the  bush  pig,  or  a  very  rare  bush 
buck  slot  —  that  is  all.  The  thing  that  impresses  you  as 
you  struggle  through  this  new  vegetable  world  for  the  first 
time,  is  its  stubborn  obstructiveness.  You  are  not  only 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  59 

held  back  by  barriers  so  tough  that  steady  cutting  and 
chopping  with  axe  and  sharp  panga  can  alone  enable  you 
to  make  any  headway,  but  you  are  attacked  and  wounded. 
Woody  trailers,  thick  as  your  arm,  or  frail,  delicate,  twin- 
ing things,  slender  as  a  blade  of  grass,  spread  forth  strong, 
clinging  hands  and  fingers  to  hold  you  back.  Twigs  that 
instinctively  in  other  lands  you  would  easily  brush  aside, 
here  may  not  be  so  dealt  with.  They  may  be  fine  as  wire, 
they  are  surely  as  strong.  And  all  are  armed,  armed 
with  thorns,  some  of  them  so  stout  and  sharp  that  they  will 
rip  a  mule's  tough  hide.  Or  thorns  so  sharp  and  barbed 
that  they  cut  and  tear  the  toughest  hunting  coat.  All 
nature  here  seems  to  cry  out  against  your  intrusion.  "Why 
are  you  raiding  where  you  have  no  right  to  come  ?"  she 
seems  to  say.  "I  want  no  stranger  here." 

Nor  can  it  be  said  that  to  her  own  dark  children  the 
woodlands  are  kindly.  The  hardy  native  hunter  pays  the 
same  penalty  as  does  the  well-clothed  European.  And 
none  suffers  so  much  as  the  N'dorobo  wild  man,  who  is 
born  and  lives  and  dies  among  these  woods.  Very  large 
numbers  of  these  folk,  you  will  notice,  have  lost  an  eye. 
Or  their  well-shaped  legs  show  deep  scars  where  ulcers, 
that  months  couldn't  have  completely  cured,  bit  into  the 
bone.  You  see  these  horrid  scars,  and  in  your  mind's  eye, 
conjure  up  some  deadly  encounter  between  ill-armed 
savage  and  terrible  beast.  You  ask  the  cause.  The 
answer  is  prosaic  enough.  Nine  times  out  of  ten  it  is: 
"The  thorn."* 

The  forest  ends  as  abruptly  as  it  began.  Suddenly  you 
emerge  from  the  dark  tangle  into  sunlight,  and  joyfully  see 
before  you  wide  rolling  pasture  lands  of  freshest  green. 
It  is  May,  and  you  might  fancy  yourself  in  the  Berkshires, 
were  the  soil  not  so  rich,  and  the  grass  and  trees  so  high. 

*  Thorn  wounds  are  always  painful,  sometimes  dangerous.    Never  fail  to  treat  them  antiseptically 
at  once.    They  are  almost  as  poisonous  as  tooth  or  claw  wounds. 


60  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Fifty  miles  of  these  green  rolling  hills  and  downs,  with 
the  stately  forest  ever  bordering  them,  on  your  right,  you 
must  pass  before  you  reach  "the  rock."  On  these  fine 
uplands  there  is  little  to  remind  you,  but  the  waving  clumps 
of  feathery  bamboo,  dearly  loved  of  the  elephants,  that 
you  are  travelling  not  only  in  the  tropics,  but  almost  under 
the  Equator. 

.  Great  beds  of  bracken,  and  on  the  higher  slopes,  masses 
of  flowering  heather,  grow  luxuriantly  at  the  feet  of  the 
bamboo;  and  in  some  places  thickets  of  a  thorny  bush 
exactly  like  our  blackberry,  but  bearing  luscious  yellow 
fruit  (the  only  good  wild  fruit  I  tasted  in  Africa)  are  found. 

The  nights  up  here  are  bitterly  cold,  the  altitude  is  over 
8,000  feet,  and  many  of  the  porters  are  sure  to  be  suffer- 
ing and  ill.  In  the  evenings  there  is  not  as  much  singing  and 
dancing  as  usual.  The  men  cower  over  their  fires,  and  you 
sit  in  a  heavy  overcoat  near  your  own.  I  found  the  air 
most  invigourating,  and  if  I  could  fancy  ever  making  a  real 
home  in  Africa,  and  I  think  very  few  Europeans  can,  here 
is  the  place. 

There  is  but  little  game.  An  occasional  hyena  and, 
very  rarely,  a  lion  may  be  heard  at  night.  African  game, 
like  African  natives,  seems  to  dislike  the  cold.  Leopards 
are  numerous,  as  their  tracks  tell,  but  you  never  see  one. 
The  Colobus  monkey,  late  in  the  evening  and  very  early  in 
the  morning,  utters  from  the  forest  border  his  extraordinary 
cry  —  like  a  coffee-mill  quickly  grinding.  But  this  land, 
though  rich  and  beautiful,  is  as  yet  lonely,  and  still  awaits, 
undeveloped,  the  coming  of  the  white  man's  plough  and 
herds. 

The  second  day's  march  from  the  boma  brought  us  to  the 
head  waters  of  the  Kerio  River,  a  sort  of  watery  dividing 
line  between  the  streams  flowing  east  and  those  we  are 
soon  to  camp  on,  all  of  which  empty  themselves  into  Lake 
Victoria.  The  Kerio  has  a  long  and  a  lonely  way  to  go. 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  61 

It  falls  into  far  Lake  Rudolph,  which  must  be  more  than 
three  hundred  miles  to  the  north,  through  one  of  the  most 
stupendous  valleys  in  the  world.  In  that  land  of  rocky 
steeps,  where  little  native  shambas  nestle,  on  patches  of 
rich  soil  not  bigger  often  than  a  large  carpet,  dwell  a  brave 
and  interesting  tribe,  almost  quite  unknown.  I  camped 
with  them,  and  learned  from  them  many  strange  things  of 
which  I  will  speak  later. 

When  we  first  cross  the  Kerio  it  flows  through  an  open 
country,  and  over  a  clear,  gravelly  bed,  an  ideal  little  trout 
stream  —  then  suddenly  plunges  into  the  dark  forest. 
One  more  march,  and  before  us  lies  the  wide  Guash'ngishu 
plain.  And  eighteen  miles  from  this  nearer  edge  of  it, 
where  camp  is  pitched  by  beautifully  clear  water,  and  under 
widespreading  juniper  trees,  can  be  seen  the  gray  summit 
of  the  rocky  hill  of  Sergoit. 

Sefaris  are  always  in  a  hurry  to  get  there,  so  let  me  at 
once  stand  on  its  rounded  summit,  and  point  out  some  of 
the  features  of  this  finest  of  all  hunting  countries.  The 
view  is  immensely  extensive,  and  very  grand  —  everything 
beneath  and  beyond  is  vivid  green,  for  it  has  been  raining 
every  afternoon  for  three  months  and  trees  and  grass  are 
donning  their  summer  finery.  Two  long  lines  of  mountains 
rise  on  either  hand  and  run  far  to  northward,  where,  closing 
together  somewhat,  they  form  the  two  sides  of  a  blunt- 
headed  triangle,  at  whose  broad  base  I  am  standing.  A 
rough  idea  of  the  geography  and  local  features  of  this 
region  is  necessary,  if  I  am  to  succeed  in  creating  an  interest 
in  those  who  may  read  this  account  of  my  wanderings,  or 
giving  aid,  as  I  wish  to  do,  to  those  who  may  visit  the 
land  themselves. 

The  purple  mass  of  Elgon  at  first  catches  the  eye. 
Lying  to  the  northwest,  it  borders  the  plain  on  the  lake 
side,  and  from  it  extends  a  whole  chain  of  oddly  shaped 
rocky  knobs  and  irregular  ridges  that  sink  gradually  down 


62  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

into  the  level  country  to  the  west  and  southwest.  This 
is  Nandi  land,  or  rather,  the  eastern  border  of  the  Nandi, 
who  all  over  the  wide  plain  are  looking  down  on  their  cruel 
raiders  who  came  and  went  till  three  or  four  years  ago. 
Further  to  the  north  of  Elgon  faint  blue  mountain  tops 
can  just  be  seen  against  the  sky:  Mount  Debasien  and  the 
Suk  Mountains,  these  last  very  high  and  as  yet  unsurveyed. 

Now  turn  to  eastward.  Eight  or  ten  miles  off  the  purple 
line  of  the  forest  comes  down  to  the  grass  land  then  rises 
over  a  wide  plateau  to  the  base  of  another  steep  mountain 
chain  also  running  to  the  north,  not  so  high  as  Elgon  evi- 
dently, but  no  one  has  yet  measured  its  exact  altitude 
(almost  all  African  altitudes,  even  that  of  Kenia,  are  still 
debatable  points).  On  the  map  this  chain  is  called  Chip- 
charanguani;  why  no  one  knows,  least  of  all  the  natives 
who  live  among  these  mountains.  None  of  them  were 
ever  guilty  of  so  monstrous  a  name.  They  all  contentedly 
called  it,  and  themselves,  Cherangang.  This  range  pro- 
longs itself  in  a  very  wilderness  of  high  mountainous  coun- 
try, bordering  the  Turkwell  River,  which  flows  into  Lake 
Rudolph.  These  mountains  to  the  east  and  north  are  the 
home  of  four  small  but  independent  peoples  who,  like  other 
mountaineers,  have  held  their  own  bravely  against  their 
far  mightier  neighbours  of  the  plain.  From  some  of  them 
I  learned  later  many  interesting  things. 

Having  looked  all  around  it,  look  now  at  the  lower 
country,  where  sefaris  come  to  hunt,  and  Boers  are  crowd- 
ing to  settle.  For  many  miles  from  the  base  of  the  hill, 
the  plain  is  unusually  flat  and  the  grass  is  cropped  short 
by  game  herds  that  continually  browse  it. 

To  the  west  a  dull  green  line,  eight  miles  away,  that 
bends  and  curves  gradually  among  the  low  swells  of  the 
veldt,  marks  a  ten  mile  long  papyrus  swamp,  through  which, 
the  river  you  camped  by  yesterday,  flows.  As  you  look 
you  can  scarcely  believe  it.  But  here  rivers  twist,  in  a 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  63 

way,  that  is  destined  on  this  very  plateau,  again  and  again, 
to  baffle  and  confuse  you.  Within  and  around  this  reedy 
stronghold  there  are  probably  more  lions  to-day  than 
anywhere  else  in  Africa.  On  these  countless  herds  of 
game  they  feed  abundantly.  At  night  they  kill,  and  ear- 
liest dawn  finds  them  where  they  are  safe  from  any  hunter, 
in  their  impenetrable  papyrus  stronghold. 

Far  away  on  the  horizon  to  the  west,  north,  and  east, 
the  faint  patchy  beginnings  of  a  sparsely  wooded  country 
are  seen,  but  all  round  the  rock  the  grass  lies  green,  not 
even  a  bush  growing  anywhere.  Here  on  this  treeless 
greensward  lions  can  rarely  be  stalked,  but  they  can  be 
"ridden"  gloriously. 

Look  carefully  with  your  glasses  over  the  plain,  and 
well-defined  paths  show  up.  These  the  elephants  have 
made,  as  they  take  a  pleasant  one-night  excursion  of  thirty 
miles  or  so,  from  their  two  favourite  forest  haunts  — 
from  Elgon's  slopes  on  the  west,  to  the  far  denser  woods  of 
Elgao  and  Cherangang.  Sometimes  they,  unwisely  for 
themselves,  break  the  journey  and  linger  by  the  way  to  eat 
the  succulent  shoots  of  the  thorn  trees  that  cover  the  lower 
slopes  of  the  plain.  Amid  these  low-growing  trees  the 
sportsman  has  the  very  best  of  good  chances  —  cover,  for 
a  close  approach,  and  some  shelter,  in  case  there  is  trouble. 
Standing  on  the  summit,  a  good  view  is  had  into  the 
basin  of  the  little,  brackish,  well-hidden,  Sergoit  Lake. 
Troops  of  eland,  herds  of  zebra,  and  Jackson's  hartebeest, 
in  hundreds,  troop  down  in  the  evening,  to  drink  around 
the  reedy  margin  of  the  water.  Reed  buck  are  always  to 
be  found,  and  a  fine  band  of  waterbuck  seem  to  make  their 
home  in  the  little  bit  of  broken  ground,  that  lies  just  to  the 
west  of  the  water.  A  sportsman  will  leave  game  just  here- 
abouts alone.  If  meat  must  be  had,  and  by  now  your 
porters  will  surely  be  pestering  you  with  cries  of  N'yama, 
bwana  (meat,  master),  go  a  mile  or  two  out  of  camp  and 


64  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

shoot  one  or  two  of  those  picturesque  but  most  useless, 
and  from  a  farmer's  point  of  view  most  destructive,  zebra; 
but  spare  a  rifle  shot  near  the  lake,  and  so  do  what  little 
you  can  to  preserve  for  others  the  beautiful  sight  which  game 
approaching  water  affords.  Here,  if  they  are  undisturbed, 
the  wild  things  of  the  veldt  will  still  come  for  years,  in  great 
numbers  and  wonderful  variety.  Game  is  quick  to  dis- 
cover and  appreciate  a  sanctuary,  however  small.  At 
Laikipia  boma  large  herds  may  always  be  seen.  The 
commissioner  has  requested  sefaris  not  to  shoot  close  by, 
and  though  a  great  number  of  hunting  camps  are  pitched 
there,  his  wishes  have  been  respected.  At  Laikipia  I  rode 
close  to  a  herd  of  twenty  fine  eland,  that  were  peacefully 
grazing  with  the  commissioner's  cows. 

When  in  May  last  I  came  to  Sergoit,  five  thousand  head 
of  game  must  have  been  visible  at  one  time  to  the  naked  eye. 
Oraby  bounded  away  as  only  oraby  can,  with  long,  spring- 
ing leaps,  and  a  fling-back  of  the  hind  legs,  thrown  in  just 
for  the  fun  of  the  thing.  Steinbuck  dashed  off,  without 
so  much  leaping,  but  quite  as  fast.  Jackson's  hartebeest 
(a  very  fine  antelope,  indeed,  not  to  be  confounded  with 
Coke's  hartebeest,  the  common  kongoni  of  the  more  south- 
ern country)  in  vast  numbers  dotted  the  whole  land,  and 
sentinel  bucks  kept  watch  on  every  high  ant  hill.  A  band 
of  stately  eland  trotted  steadily  away,  the  bull  bringing 
up  the  rear.  Waterbuck  waded  in  the  lake's  margin,  and 
dikerbuck  jumped  up  at  your  feet,  where  the  grass  grew  long 
among  the  ruins  of  the  stone  kraals  of  the  perished  Sarequa.* 

A  few  miles  farther  north,  where  the  thorn  trees  were 
filling  the  air  with  their  heavy  perfume,  several  herds  of 
giraffe  ranged  slowly,  remaining  in  the  same  neighbourhood 
for  weeks  together. 

Among  the  cliffs  and  steep  glens  of  Cherangang  to  the 

*A  large  and  prosperous  tribe  once  inhabiting  the  plateau.    They  alone  of  East  Africans  built 
themselves  stone  kraals.     They  seem  to  have  perished  utterly  about  one  hundred  years  ago. 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  65 

northward,  and  in  the  broad  bottom  of  the  valley  of  the 
Kerio-Elgao  country,  only  ten  miles  to  the  right,  buffalo 
are  plentiful,  but  can  only  be  successfully  hunted  when  the 
grass  is  quite  short.  The  Elgao  absolutely  refuse  to  go 
after  them  while  it  is  long.  And  the  Cherangang  forests 
are  so  full  of  staked  game  pits,  that  no  man,  not  even  an 
N'dorobo  is  safe  among  them,  unless  at  the  same  time  of 
year  (January  to  June). 

Between  the  plateau  you  stand  on  and  this  last  range, 
there  opens  the  deep  gorge  in  which  the  Nzoia  River  has 
one  of  its  chief  sources.  Here,  too,  the  elephant  sometimes 
makes  a  halt,  it  is  so  near  home,  and  the  rocky  sides  of 
the  valley  shelter  many  a  leopard.  As  the  fine  stream 
leaves  its  rough  cradle,  and  winds  among  the  rich  lands 
farther  north,  its  banks  grow  marshy  in  places,  and  num- 
berless sedgy  hollows  drain  down  to  it  from  the  uplands. 
In  these  or  near  them  is  the  chosen  retreat  of  the  finest 
water  buck  in  East  Africa  (Sing  Sing).  My  friend  secured, 
thirty  miles  farther  down  the  river,  the  record  head  for  the 
Protectorate  (33  inches  long  by  32,  spread,  tip  to  tip  — 
such  a  spread  is  quite  unusual  in  East  Africa). 

About  twenty-five  miles  from  the  rock,  the  Nzoia  bends 
back  to  the  southwest,  sweeping  round  the  slopes  of  Elgon_ 
In  the  flat,  reedy  prairies  on  its  margin,  and  only  there,  a 
fine  antelope  is  found  in  great  abundance  —  kobus  kob.. 
Be  merciful  to  him,  good  brother  sportsman.  He  is 
easiest  of  all  Nzoia's  wild  company  to  kill.  Very  hand- 
some he  is,  and  very  poor  meat  when  killed.  So,  though 
by  an  oversight  in  the  game  laws,  you  may  shoot  ten, 
hunt  up  zebra  again,  they  are  much  larger,  and  the  men 
think  them  better  eating,  and  be  content  with  one  or  at  most 
two  pair  of  the  strong,  gracefully  curving  horns. 

There  are  hippo  everywhere  on  this  lower  part  of  Nzoia, 
and  a  very  few  rhino.  But,  leaving  these  out  of  count, 
for  river  hippo  are  always  small,  and  rhino  horns  in  this 


66  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

country  do  not  compare  with  those  obtainable  near  the 
German  border,  what  a  game  list  I  have  made  out  for 
this  beautiful  part  of  East  Africa!  I  should  have  said  that 
very  large  reed  buck  and  bush  buck  are  constantly  to  be  met. 
One  more  animal  I  must  name,  for  he  is  well  worth  taking 
trouble  to  secure  —  the  African  wild  dog. 

There  are  lions  from  Mombassa  to  the  Lake.  They  turn 
up  often  in  most  unexpected  ways  and  places,  and  you  may 
hunt  for  months  in  good  lion  country  and  see  none.  A 
greenhorn  strolls  out  of  his  tent  on  the  Athi,  at  an  absurdly 
late  hour  for  a  sportsman  to  go  forth,  and  walks  on  top  of 
a  lion,  sunning  himself,  on  an  ant  heap.  The  lion  is  looking 
the  other  way,  and  the  lucky  greenhorn  gets  his  first  lion  so 
-easily,  that  he  tells  you  "there  is  nothing  in  lion  hunting." 

I  knew  an  engineer  who  has  run  up  and  down  the  Uganda 
railroad  on  his  inspecting  Spider,  thousands  of  miles  in  the 
year.  He  has  been  doing  it  for  many  years.  His  train 
hands,  on  construction  trains,  often  see  lions  and  shoot  them. 
A  German  professor  looks  out  of  his  carriage  window, 
.sees  a  lion  feeding  on  a  zebra.  The  train  is  courteously 
stopped,  he  bags  that  lion.  Hundreds  of  lions  have  been 
seen  from  the  railroad,  but,  my  friend  has,  in  all  these  years, 
never  seen  one. 

A  young  friend  of  mine  found  himself  in  Mombassa  with 
a  few  idle  days  on  his  hands.  He  knew  little  about  hunt- 
ing and  nothing  about  the  country,  so  he  scraped  together 
somehow  the  odds  and  ends  of  a  small  sefari,  and  hied  him 
into  the  rough  scrubby  bush  that  surrounds  that  town.  He 
not  only  saw  a  lioness,  a  thing  most  unusual  thereabouts — 
no  old-timer  could  have  found  even  a  lion's  spoor  in  the 
place  —  but  he  wounded  her,  and  crawled  after  her  into 
the  worst  sort  of  thorn  scrub  cover.  She  waited  patiently 
for  him  there  and  —  charged  and  mauled  him  ?  —  not 
a  bit  of  it!  But  most  amiably  let  him  finish  her  off. 

Emboldened  by  his  luck,  he  did  the  same  thing  with 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  67 

a  buffalo,  wounded  and  followed  it,  literally  on  hands  and 
knees,  and  the  buffalo  made  no  more  trouble  than  the  lioness. 
I  am  glad  my  friend  has  gone  back  to  lands  where  savage 
game  is  not  to  be  had,  for  he  would  end  by  being  killed 
most  surely.  That  sort  of  luck  is  dangerous. 

In  spite  of  the  unfortunate  engineer's  experience,  all 
along  the  railroad  line  lions  are  still  far  from  uncommon, 
as  the  skins  offered  to  passengers  prove.  The  lions  of  Tsavo 
are  famous.  And  near  Voi,  one  hundred  miles  from  the 
sea,  Mr.  Buxton,  accompanied  by  his  daughter,  had  to 
ring  his  bicycle  bell  at  one  of  them,  he  says,  to  make  it 
leave  the  road. 

On  the  Athi  plains  near  Nairobi,  and  round  Donyea 
Sabuk  mountain,  I  suppose  more  than  two  hundred  lions 
have  been  shot.  At  Naivasha  and  Nakura  they  may  be 
heard  any  night,  and  several  are  shot  each  year  in  both 
these  localities.  Here,  lately,  herdsmen  are  taking  up  land, 
and  where  herdsmen  come  lions  are  rightfully  doomed. 
They  are  to  them  vermin  of  a  dangerous  order,  and  if  rifle 
cannot  reach  them,  poison  can. 

On  the  Mau  escarpment  some  splendid  dark-maned 
specimens  are  occasionally  shot.  The  cold  of  that  high 
region  seems  to  result  in  a  heavier  and  blacker  mane  than 
lions  generally  grow.  But  the  farmer  is  there  in  force. 

Now  that  the  Mau  is  passed,  all  settlement  is  left  behind. 
The  farmer  and  cattle  owner  have  not  yet  taken  possession 
of  this  wonderfully  fertile  country.  Game  abounds,  and 
lion  till  quite  lately  have  had  things  all  their  own  way. 
Till  three  years  ago  this  country  was  a  closed  district. 
No  sportsmen  or  settlers  were  allowed  to  enter  the  land. 
The  Nandi*  war  was  in  progress,  and  sefari  would  have 

*The  Nandi,  a  large  tribe  akin  to  the  Massai,  and  always  at  war  with  them,  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  offered  them  by  the  scarcely  guarded  railroad  that  ran  through  the  middle  of  their  territory. 
Here  was  an  opportunity  to  provide  themselves  with  very  superior  quality  of  iron  for  their  broad  spear 
heads.  Spikes  were  to  be  had  for  the  taking.  If  an  unfortunate  Indian  track  walker  raised  a  protest 
nothing  was  easier  than  to  test  the  temper  of  the  new  spear  head  on  him.  So  the  Nandi  treated  the 
road  as  a  convenient  iron  mine  till,  remonstrances  proving  useless,  they  had  to  be  thrashed. 


68  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

been  cut  up.  The  poor  Nandi  had  to  have  their  lesson, 
and  it  was  a  hard  one  when  it  came.  But  the  result  was 
salutary,  for  finding  that  their  cattle  could  easily  be  cap- 
tured, and  that  once  these  were  taken  from  them  they 
must  starve,  or  give  in,  they  not  only  gave  in,  and  so  received 
back  the  larger  part  of  their  loved  herds,  but,  being  a  long- 
headed people  for  Africans,  they  concluded  they  had 
better  begin  to  imitate  the  example  of  the  hitherto  despised 
Kikuyu,  and  commenced  some  cultivation  on  their  own 
account.  The  Government  gave  them  seed  and  help,  and 
these  most  interesting  natives,  possessed  of  some  of  the 
finest  lands  in  East  Africa,  are  to-day  on  the  road  to  a  more 
stable  prosperity  than  they  have  ever  enjoyed  before.  The 
Sergoit  region  borders  the  Nandi  escarpment,  and  had  been 
for  a  long  time  before  this  brief  war  broke  out,  a  sort  of 
debatable  land.  Once  it  was  densely  populated  by  another 
tribe,  also  allied  to  the  Massai.  This  tribe,  of  which  I  speak 
farther  on,  was  utterly  wiped  out,  so  far  as  can  be  learned, 
about  one  hundred  years  ago.  Since  their  destruction,  it 
has  remained  unoccupied,  and  was  left  to  game  and  the 
lions.  Some  day,  and  I  cannot  think  that  day  a  distant 
one,  tens  of  thousands  of  cattle  and  sheep  will  surely  graze 
it,  and  from  many  thousands  of  its  acres,  rich  crops  will 
spring,  to  feed  the  native  and  the  settler. 

Just  a  few  words  more  about  the  Nzoia  plateau  and 
the  country  across  that  river  to  the  north  of  it,  where  I 
spent  many  pleasant  hunting  days,  and  then  I  will  follow 
the  sefari  to  the  next  camp.  There  has  been  quite  a  little 
raiding  among  the  tribes  that  live  round  the  borders  of  the 
plateau.  Old  habits  are  not  to  be  at  once  eradicated, 
certainly  not  at  the  mere  bidding  of  some  distant  civic 
officer,  who  has  had  no  time  to  come  round  and  look  after 
his  unruly  charges.  Massai  from  the  south,  Elgao  from  the 
east,  clashed  in  the  old  days  constantly  with  Nandi  and 
Katosch  from  the  west.  Occasionally  an  adventurous 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  69 

Karamojo  war  party  pushed  down  from  the  north  and 
northwest  to  try  their  luck,  or  Turkana  came  from  the 
northeast  to  steal  anything  they  could  lay  hands  on.  In 
these  never  ceasing  efforts  to  steal  each  others'  goats  and 
cattle,  a  number  of  warriors  of  course  lost  their  lives.  But 
the  East  African  native  is  a  born  fighter,  whether  he  carries 
only  a  stick  or  goes  armed  with  the  great  spear  of  the  Massai, 
the  longer,  beautifully  balanced  weapon  of  the  Karamojo 
and  Elgao,  or  the  quite  as  deadly  bow  and  poisoned  arrow 
of  the  N'dorobo. 

This  sort  of  thing  seems  to  afford  these  fighting  tribes 
a  pleasurable  form  of  excitement,  but,  dangerous  as  it  sounds, 
it  in  no  way  jeopardizes,  any  longer,  the  white  man's  sefari. 
If  you  come  across  the  path  of  a  band  of  raiders,  as  I  did 
twice,  they  will,  in  all  probability,  slip  quietly  by  your  camp 
fire,  in  the  night,  and  next  day  you  are  surprised  to  see  the 
unmistakable  narrow  winding  trail,  that  only  a  long  line 
of  bare-footed  men  can  make,  winding,  snakelike,  through 
the  heavy  grass. 

I  tested  the  climate  of  the  plateau  pretty  thoroughly, 
and  always  found  it  delightful.  The  nights  are  refresh- 
ingly cool,  though  not  nearly  as  cold  as  nights,  spent  on  the 
uplands,  crossed  to  reach  it.  The  sun  during  the  day  is 
hot,  but  the  glass  never  rose  above  85°  in  the  shade. 
And  where  there  is  deep  shade,  as  under  a  thick  tree,  it  is 
never  too  warm  for  comfort.  There  are  scarcely  any  flies, 
and  very  few  mosquitoes  or  ticks.  Twice  we  came  across 
deadly  snakes,  one  a  black  and  the  other  a  vividly  green 
cobra.  Each  was  about  five  feet  or  five  feet  six  inches  long. 
There  is  also  a  very  beautiful  green  tree  snake,  that  is 
extraordinarily  quick  in  its  movements,  and  another  which, 
to  my  ignorant  eyes,  differed  in  nothing  from  our  own 
common  black  snake.  These  last  two  are  constrictors, 
and,  of  course,  harmless.  The  men  are  ever  in  mortal 
terror  of  all  and  every  sort  of  snake.  When  I  once  caught 


70  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

a  small  black  snake  and  holding  it  in  my  hand  ran  after 
some  of  them,  the  way  they  "cleared"  was  a  sight.  One 
evening  four  of  them  were  lighting  their  little  fire,  after  an 
unusually  hard,  hot,  march  under  a  thickly  growing 
large-leaved  tree;  the  pungent  smoke  curled  up  among 
the  branches  and  must  have  incommoded  a  fine  green  tree 
snake  that  had  also  sought  the  tree's  shelter  against  the 
burning  sun.  My  porters  were  lolling  at  their  ease,  when 
into  the  very  midst  of  the  four  tumbled  the  snake.  The 
yell  they  raised  was  so  sudden  and  unearthly,  that  I  ran 
up  with  a  rifle  in  great  alarm.  And  it  was  some  minutes 
before  I  could  even  get  an  explanation  from  the  thoroughly 
scared  men. 

In  May,  June,  July,  and  August,  as  well  as  in  October, 
I  can,  from  personal  experience,  vouch  for  the  fact  that 
here  it  rains  almost  every  afternoon.  Sefari  life  is  none  the 
worse  for  such  a  rainfall,  indeed,  in  many  ways  it  makes 
the  hunting  better,  as  tracking  can  be  done  and  camps  made, 
when  during  a  rainless  period  it  would  be  difficult  to  hunt 
or  camp.  The  flowers,  too,  are  out,  mushrooms  grow 
(which,  in  a  land  where  there  are  no  vegetables,  is  impor- 
tant), and  the  country  is  green  and  lovely.  The  day's 
work  can  be  done  before  the  afternoon  storm  rolls  up. 
Indeed,  I  much  prefer  the  rainy  season  for  hunting.  Its 
one  and  only  drawback  is  the  difficulty  that  sometimes  arises 
in  saving  your  headskins.  The  rain,  in  East  Africa,  comes 
in  a  way  all  its  own.  Probably  you  notice  a  little  cloud, 
and  not  a  verv  dark  one,  that  circles  round  half  the  horizon 

J  * 

for  an  hour  or  more.  "It  may  rain,"  you  say,  "but  it 
won't  be  much.  There  is  clear  sky  all  round  the  cloud, 
and  beneath  it.  If  it  does  come,  it  will  quickly  rain  itself 
out."  Still,  on  it  comes,  and  it  seems  to  grow  bigger  as  it 
moves,  and  as  its  fringes  draw  over  you  it  begins  to  rain  — 
rain  hard,  big,  heavy  drops,  every  one  of  which  hits,  as  they 
come,  and  you  feel  them  land  with  a  cool  pat,  and  sink  in. 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  71 

Then,  in  some  unaccountable  way  that  little  cloud  spreads 
itself  out,  and  the  rain  now  pours  down  in  a  deluge.  In 
our  land  such  a  torrent  would  quickly  empty  any  cloud. 
But  in  Africa  clouds  must  be  thicker  through,  than  they  are 
wide;  and  from  some  higher  source,  that  we  below  them 
cannot  see,  they  can  spread  themselves  out,  as  though  they 
held  water  in  a  funnel  and  not  in  a  saucer,  and  grow  thicker 
and  darker  as  they  pour,  from  somewhere,  the  water  down. 
Once  they  come  they  do  not  seem,  as  ours  do,  to  drift 
aside,  but  wait  on  you  and  over  you,  and  pour  and  pour, 
hour  after  hour,  till  all  the  level  ground  is  deep  in  stand- 
ing water.  Other  clouds  there  are,  with  rough,  ragged  edges 
like  short  fingers  sticking  out  of  a  hand,  white  misty  rims 
circling  up  from  them.  Then  look  to  your  tent  pegs,  for 
wind  comes  before  rain.  (See  photograph.  This  tent  was 
wrecked  in  about  three  minutes.) 

We  did  not  camp  long  at  Sergoit.  There  is  little  or  no 
wood  to  be  had,  and  over  its  level  greenswards  we  soon 
saw  that  the  chance  of  stalking  the  lions  we  now  heard 
nightly,  was  but  poor. 

I  had  not  been  able  to  find  out  much  about  the  country 
we  had  now  entered.  The  maps  that  the  department  had 
on  hand  at  Nairobi  were  not  very  correct.  Men  who  had 
been  there  said  it  was  a  great  game  country,  and  that 
there  were  more  lions  there  than  anywhere  else.  So  now 
nothing  remained  for  my  friend  and  self  to  do,  but  to  explore 
for  ourselves. 

In  what  part  of  the  plateau  lions  were  most  numerous, 
whether  they  kept  along  the  Nzoia  River  in  goodly  numbers, 
or  whether  they  were  only  plentiful  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  great  papyrus  swamp,  to  west  of  this  rock,  where 
ponies  were  needed  to  hunt  them  —  all  these  things  re- 
mained to  be  found  out. 

Now  lions  were  what  I  had  set  my  heart  on.     I  had  on 
my  first  trip  succeeded  in  securing  many  other  species  of 


72  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

game.  But  never  a  lion!  I  had  hunted  early  and  late, 
risen  before  the  sun,  morning  after  morning,  and  sat  up  in  a 
machan*  all  the  night,  but  never  shot  at  a  lion.  I  had 
walked  all  round  Donyea  Sabuk  and  never  seen  a  lion, 
while  two  other  men  who  had  walked  part  of  the  way  round, 
beginning  at  the  opposite  side  to  mine,  had  shot  four. 

You  can  fancy  that  after  waiting  so  long  a  time,  and  just 
missing  getting  one  so  often,  I  was  pretty  keen  set  on  lions. 

J.  J.  W.,  naturally,  like  most  Americans,  wanted  every- 
thing he  could  get,  so  he  was  not  above  trying  for  a  lion 
also,  and  on  his  way  to  get  the  king,  he  was  pretty  sure  in 
the  country  we  were  now  in,  to  be  able  to  secure  a  specimen 
of  most  of  his  subjects.  Here  then,  happily,  as  in  other 
things,  we  found  ourselves  of  the  same  mind.  Game  herds 
there  were  everywhere,  and  also  abundant  evidence  that 
hundreds  of  elephants  had  lately  been,  not  only  crossing  the 
plateau,  but  resting  and  feeding  on  it.  So  it  was  with  great 
expectations  we  moved  northward  from  the  rock. 

On  May  26th,  J.  J.  W.  and  his  hunter  saw  the  first  lions, 
two  females.  They  offered  no  chance  and  made  off  into 
long  grass  bordering  the  river.  Following  on,  the  cover 
grew  thicker,  and  as  there  was  ominous  growling  they 
left  them.  On  getting  back  to  the  mule,  J.  J.  W  found 
his  syce  and  the  porter  who  was  with  him,  in  a  great  state 
of  perturbation.  They  declared  that  soon  as  he  had  entered 
the  cover,  four  lions,  one  a  large  male,  had  broken  back 
and  crossed  the  open  glade  behind  the  guns.  There 
were,  therefore,  either  four  or  six  lions  in  all  in  that  bunch. 
But  unarmed  black  men  may  be  pardoned  if  they  exaggerate. 
During  the  next  two  nights  we  heard  lions  constantly 
and  once  on  the  march  I  had  a  glimpse  of  two  great  dark- 
maned  fellows  who  heard  the  sefaris  rattle,  and  made  off 
before  we  came  within  shot.  Had  I  known  then,  what  I 
learned  afterward,  that  the  very  best  country  to  follow 


*  Platform  built  in  a  tree. 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  73 

them  in  is  long-grass  country,  for  the  wide  grass  trail  of 
the  big,  low  body  is  easiest  of  all  tracks  to  follow,  I  would 
have  gone  after  them  as  long  as  my  knee  held  out.  Still, 
at  that  time,  I  could  walk  but  little,  and  most  probably 
they  would  not  have  given  me  a  chance.  As  it  was,  I  had 
to  content  myself  with  a  good  view  of  the  splendid  beasts 
as  they  mounted  a  stony  hill  bare  of  grass  at  some  four 
hundred  yards  distance;  and  with  my  Zeiss  the  manes  looked 
-dark  and  long.  One  was  a  specially  fine  beast. 

I  am  pretty  well  satisfied  that  the  colder  the  country 
the  darker  and  longer  the  mane.  In  India  the  lion  is 
maneless.  On  the  Athi  plain  a  really  dark  lion  is  seldom 
seen;  in  Somaliland  is  never  seen,  my  Somali  tell  me.  The 
nights  on  this  great  plateau  at  an  altitude  of  almost  seven 
thousand  feet  are  often  bitterly  cold.  In  the  Eldama  Ravine 
country,  which  we  passed  through,  they  are  even  colder. 
Jt  was  there  Mr.  Aikly,  for  the  Field  Museum,  succeeded 
in  securing  as  fine  a  black-maned  lion  as  has  been  taken 
out  of  the  country. 

I  met  some  Boers  just  come  from  the  Transvaal.  They 
were  looking  at  land  to  take  as  homesteads,  and  were  enthu- 
siastic over  the  country  they  had  just  seen.  They  had 
killed  two  lions,  one  of  them  carrying  a  fairly  black  mane 
though  the  hair  was  not  very  long  or  the  lion  exceptionally 
large.  They  told  me  they  had  never  seen  a  lion  in  South 
Africa  to  match  it,  though  they  had  shot  many.  All  of 
which  goes  to  prove,  I  think,  that  the  colder  the  country 
the  darker  and  heavier  the  hair.  I  might  add  that  no  wild 
lion  has  a  mane  to  match  some  I  have  seen  in  the 
Zoological  Gardens  in  London  and  Dublin. 

On  the  night  of  May  29th  we  heard  two  or  three  lions 
calling  some  distance  down  river,  and  fancied  they  might 
be  feasting  on  a  water  buck  J.  J.  W.  had  shot  that  after- 
noon down  there,  and  he,  with  his  usual  unselfishness, 
insisted  that  I  should  go  down  river  and  take  the  chance. 


74  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

But  as  I  had  said  I  would  go  up  river  the  evening  before,, 
when  we  tossed  for  country,  I  didn't  think  it  fair  to  change, 
and,  moreover,  if  they  were  at  the  carcass,  the  bait  was 
his  not  mine.  So  I  stuck  to  my  plans,  and  went  up  stream. 
I  saw  nothing  of  lion,  though  I  secured  what  I  had  wanted 
a  long  time  to  get,  viz.,  a  good  specimen  of  the  African 
hunting  dog,  a  fine  animal,  though  very  destructive  on 
game.  The  dogs  are  the  size  of  large,  powerfully  built 
setters,  great  muscle  in  leg,  back  and  jaw,  with  fine  brain 
lobes  and  broad  forehead.  The  colour  is  black  with 
brownish  stripe  down  the  back,  and  tan-coloured  patches 
on  the  side,  the  tail  bushy  and  ending  in  a  white  tuft  of  hair. 
I  had  seen  them  before,  but  had  never  been  able  to  get  near. 
In  the  Nzoia  country  I  think  they  are  not  rare.  They  hunt 
in  packs,  and  will  run  anything  on  the  plain  down.  If 
they  could  be  caught  young  and  crossed  with  either  a 
greyhound,  bulldog  or  setter,  something  useful  ought  to 
be  produced.  The  eyes  are  fine  and  intelligent,  though 
fierce  and  wild  in  the  extreme.  I  made  a  lucky  shot  at 
the  leader  of  a  troop  of  a  dozen.  They  were  feeding  on 
a  kongoni  they  had  pulled  down.  He  mounted  an  ant  heap 
to  look  round  and  I  killed  him  with  one  shot  at  318  yards, 
using,  of  course,  my  telescope.  The  pack  then  got  con- 
fused and  several  of  them  ran  on  me,  when  I  shot  three 
more.  One  of  them,  very  badly  wounded,  was  so  fierce, 
and  showed  such  fight,  when  we  approached  I  had  to  shoot 
him  again. 

When  I  got  back  to  camp  rather  late  in  the  day,  I  found 
every  one  in  the  bluest  of  blues.  J.  J.  W.  and  his  hunter 
had  gone  down  river  to  the  water  buck  carcass,  or  what 
was  left  of  it,  and  had  come  on  three  fine  lions  taking  their 
ease  close  to  where  they  had  dined.  They  were  sprawling 
on  and  round  an  ant  hill  and  saw  nothing  of  the  hunters. 
It  was  J.  J.  W.'s  first  shot,  and  most  naturally  he  was  nervous. 
He  used  his  .450,  a  rifle  which  he  didn't  know,  and  missed, 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  75 

as  he  thought  then.  We  found  afterward  that  one  of  his 
bullets  had  passed  through  the  foreleg  low  down,  not  break- 
ing the  bone.  His  hunter,  waiting  for  him  to  shoot,  missed 
his  first  shot,  too,  but  as  one  of  the  lions  made  off  toward 
the  river,  wounded  him  twice,  the  first  time  shooting  him 
through  the  body  but  too  far  back,  the  second  time  in  his 
rump.  The  lion  first  stopped  in  the  long  grass  that  bor- 
ders the  river  jungle,  and  somewhat  recklessly  they  went 
after  him,  into  it,  but  he  kept  lying  low  and  growled  omi- 
nously; then,  finding  they  couldn't  see  him,  they  left  for  home 
There  was  plenty  of  blood,  and  the  hunter  felt  sure  he  would 
die  in  a  few  hours. 

In  the  evening  we  talked  the  matter  over  and  coming  to 
the  conclusion  from  what  J.  J.  W.'s  hunter  said  that  by 
morning  the  beast  must  be  dead,  we  determined  to  take 
our  gunboys  and  twenty  porters  to  beat  up  the  whole  place, 
if  necessary,  and  save  the  skin  from  the  vultures.  Looking 
back  on  the  whole  affair  now,  I  blame  myself  for  allow- 
ing the  porters  to  go  into  such  a  place,  as  I  blamed  the 
hunter  at  the  time,  for  taking  my  friend  into  long  grass  after 
a  wounded  lion.  It  is  an  exceedingly  dangerous  thing 
for  even  an  experienced  shot  to  do,  one  who  has  command 
both  of  his  nerves  and  of  his  weapon.  J.  J.  W.  had  had  no 
previous  experience  of  really  dangerous  game,  and  his 
hunter,  who  afterward  proved  to  be  a  very  nervous  shot 
himself,  failed  his  man  badly  in  acting  as  he  did. 

I  also  placed  too  much  reliance  on  what  this  man  told 
me,  of  where  the  wounds  he  had  given  the  lion  lay.  Had 
the  first  bullet  from  his  .350  Rigby  taken  the  beast  anywhere 
near  the  shoulder,  it  would  indeed  have  been  safe  work  to 
look  for  him  next  day.  No  lion  could  live  twelve  hours 
shot,  in  that  place,  with  such  a  gun.  Unfortunately,  instead 
of  the  shoulder,  the  bullet  had  taken  effect  far  back  in  the 
guts,  a  wound  that  must  prove  fatal  in  time,  but  one  which 
might  not  cause  death  for  some  days. 


76  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

When  I  got  to  the  place  in  the  morning,  I  found  it  far 
more  formidable  even  than  I  should  have  fancied  from 
the  account  given  me.  The  long  grass  in  which  they  had 
left  the  lion  was  bad  enough,  but  it  could  be  searched. 
It  was  safety  and  simplicity  itself,  however,  when  com- 
pared with  the  riverside  jungle  into  which  the  lion  had 
crawled  afterward.  This  was  almost  impenetrable.  On 
the  right  hand  side,  the  deep  river  ran  with  steep-cut  banks 
so  high  that  no  wounded  lion  could  cross  it  anywhere. 
From  the  bank  there  extended  a  belt  of  cover,  shaded  by 
large  trees,  where  vines,  reeds,  and  a  hundred  thorny  leafy 
plants  were  matted  together.  Here  were  pools  of  water 
and  deep  black  hollows,  and  over  all  was  spread  even  at 
midday  the  dark  shade  of  the  trees.  Sometimes  the  sun- 
light broke  in.  Usually  it  was  so  dark  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  see  anything  at  even  a  few  yards'  distance. 

Nothing  would  have  induced  me  to  allow,  so  long  as  I 
could  prevent  it,  any  one  to  enter  such  a  place,  had  I  not 
had  the  most  positive  assurances  from  J.  J.  W.'s  hunter 
that  he  knew  where  his  bullets  were  placed,  and  that 
without  any  doubt  whatever  the  lion  was  dead  by  now. 
He  had  emptied  his  repeating  .350  Mauser  at  the  lion,  and 
had  at  least  one  steady  standing  shot  (the  distance  measured 
afterward  was  only  120  yards),  so  presumably  he  should 
have  known  what  he  was  talking  about.  Vultures  now 
rose  from  the  darkest  of  the  thicket,  and  sat  expectant  on 
the  tree  limbs  overhead.  Everything  looked  like  a  dead 
lion.  So  we  went  in.  We  formed  the  beaters  up  in  line, 
only  a  few  feet  apart,  with  a  gunbearer  or  askari  carrying 
rifle  or  double  barrel  gun  here  and  there  to  give  the  men 
heart,  and  slowly,  foot  by  foot,  began  our  advance  into  the 
semi-darkness.  (There  were  twelve  rifles  and  double 
barrels  in  all.) 

My  knee  made  it  impossible  for  me  to  enter  the  thickest 
of  the  jungle,  so  I  had  to  content  myself  with  the  left  of 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  77 

the  line.  Hobbling  along  with  my  stick,  my  gunbearer  behind 
me  with  the  rifle,  nerves  were,  naturally,  a  bit  strung  up,, 
and  when  some  bush  buck  or  reed  buck  would  crash  through 
the  bushes  a  few  feet  away,  the  line  so  far  as  I  could  see  it 
would  bend  and  sway,  sticks  would  go  up  in  the  air;  soon 
as  the  porters  saw  it  was  nothing,  they  would  steady  again. 

Presently  I  could  hear  from  the  sound  of  beating  sticks 
and  voices  that  the  line  had  beat  backward  in  the  middle, 
and  was  no  longer  straight  but  bowed,  with  either  wing  so 
pressing  forward,  that  if  anything  happened  the  men  would 
shoot  into  each  other.  If  I  had  had  any  experience  of  beating 
out  such  a  place,  I  might  have  known  that  it  would  prove 
impossible  to  keep  even  well-drilled  men  in  a  straight  line. 
But  this  was  my  first  and  my  last  attempt  at  such  a  job. 

A  moment  later  there  came  a  quite  appalling  grunting 
roar  right  in  the  middle  of  the  line,  where  J.  J.  W.  and  his 
Somali  gunbearer  and  his  hunter  were.  It  seemed  only  a 
few  feet  off,  it  so  pervaded  the  whole  dark  place,  and  my 
heart  stood  still.  I  knew  the  lion  was  not  dead  by  a  long 
way,  and  that  we  were  all  embarked  on  a  foolish  business. 
Then  a  wild  fusillade  from  all  sides.  The  men  shot  in  every 
direction,  some  into  the  air,  some  into  the  ground.  Poor 
Momba,  the  hunter's  Kikuyu  gunbearer,  said  afterward, 
that  the  askari  next  him  "shot  at  the  birds."  Nobody 
seemed  to  know  where  he  shot,  and  nobody,  of  course,  hit 
the  lion.  I  only  knew  that  one  of  them  nearly  shot  me,  for 
a  bullet  buried  itself  in  the  bank  at  my  side.  I  counted 
eighteen  shots,  and  there  may  have  been  more.  Then  roar 
on  roar  and  shot  on  shot.  Four  or  five  from  heavy  guns 
coming  in  quick  succession.  It  seemed  an  age  to  me,  who. 
could  see  nothing,  but  it  was  really  all  over  in  two  minutes. 
Then  silence  for  a  moment!  Then  a  loud  cheer.  And 
then  another  loud  call  for  water,  and  my  heart  sank,  for 
I  knew  someone  must  have  been  either  shot  or  mauled. 
I  sent  my  gunbearer  back  to  where  my  mule  was  tied,  for 


78  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

my  saddle  bags,  and  hobbled  in,  getting  through  the  few 
yards  that  separated  me  from  the  centre  as  quickly  as  I 
could.  Mombo  the  Kikuyu  gunbearer  had  been  pulled 
down  —  a  good  fellow,  brave  to  recklessness,  very  unlike 
Kikuyu  generally,  but  who  had  had  no  experience  of  lions 
in  cover 

Momba  had  come  on  the  lion  near  the  river  bank. 
He  was  on  the  extreme  right  of  our  line  of  beaters.  The 
wounded  beast  was  nearly  done.  When  Mombo  stumbled 
on  him  he  could  scarcely  raise  himself  out  of  his  lair  — 
one  shot  would  have  finished  him.  But  Momba,  like  almost 
all  black  men,  could  hit  nothing  with  the  rifle,  and  at  a  few 
feet's  distance  missed  him  two  or  three  times.  The  men 
near  him  who  had  guns  did  the  same.  One  good  shot 
would  have  been  enough,  but  none  came,  and  slowly  it 
seemed  the  great  beast  closed  on  him.  All  he  could  do 
was  to  throw  himself  backward  into  the  brush,  and  that 
was  so  thick  it  doubtless  saved  his  life.  The  lion  grabbed 
him  by  the  left  arm,  and  somehow  took  at  the  same  time 
the  stock  of  his  rifle  in  his  mouth.  The  lower  teeth  bit 
into  the  tough  wood  and  this  somewhat  saved  the  arm. 
The  lion  tried  to  draw  the  man  toward  and  under  him,  but 
the  stout  brush  held  the  poor  fellow,  and  saved  him  also  from 
the  deadly  claw,  worse  than  tooth  wounds,  for  they  soon  bring 
gangrene.  The  lion  let  his  first  hold  go,  taking  a  second 
to  draw  him  down,  but  he  was  wounded  to  death  and  the 
brush  was  thick  and  tough.  Then  he  let  the  man  go,  and 
turning  back  struck  the  line  in  the  middle,  where  the  hunter 
and  J.  J.  W.'s  gunbearer  stood.  Both  these  shot  at  him  with 
.350  rifles  two  or  three  times  each,  and  he  sank  down  dead 
with  two  bullets  in  the  chest.  The  bullets  were  in  all  like- 
lihood fired  by  the  hunter,  for,  though  Noor,  J.  J.  W.'s 
Somali,  is  a  steady  man,  and  never  for  a  moment  flinched, 
he  is,  like  most  Somalis,  a  very  indifferent  shot. 

When  the  great  beast  was  down  everyone  cheered,  for 


ACROSS  THE  MAU  ESCARPMENT  79 

few  knew  Momba  had  been  mauled,  but  presently  two  or 
three  brought  in  the  poor  fellow,  all  limp  and  faint.  It  was 
then  he  said  that  the  fellow  next  him  had  shot  at  the  birds, 
but  he,  Momba,  had  put  two  bullets  in  him.  We  com- 
forted him  by  assuring  him  that  he  had. 

It  was  fortunate  that  I  always  carried  in  my  saddle  bags 
permanganate  of  potash,  lint,  bandages,  and  a  strong 
syringe;  also,  that  my  syce  carried  my  water  bottle  full  of 
boiled  water.  These  were  to  hand  in  a  few  moments,  and 
I  did  with  them,  for  poor  Momba,  what  I  could.  He  had 
made  no  outcry  when  the  beast  gripped  him,  though  the 
wounds  of  the  great  teeth,  almost  through  the  forearm, 
showed  plainly  the  sideways  tug  he  had  received  —  and 
flesh  and  sinew  was  forced  outward  by  the  straining. 
But  he  cried  pitifully  when  the  fierce  burning  current  of 
disinfectant  was  forced  into  all  the  wounds.  He  said  after- 
wards that  he  had  "awful  pain  up  his  arm  and  into  the 
back  of  his  head,  and  then  things  were  very  dark."  His 
description,  I  fear,  was  accurate  enough.  But  the  one 
thing  that  must  be  done,  let  it  pain  as  it  may,  let  it  even  be 
necessary  to  hold  a  half-distracted  man  down  in  order  to 
do  it  thoroughly,  is  at  once  and  with  a  strong  solution  to 
syringe  and  syringe  thoroughly.  The  claw  wounds  in  his 
legs  were  slight  scratches,  and  gave  no  after  trouble,  heal- 
ing up  at  once.  But  hand  and  arm  were  terribly  torn  and 
lacerated.  Seventeen  wounds  in  all  he  had. 

We  tended  and  fed  him  as  well  as  we  could,  dressing  the 
wounds  twice  daily.  The  crushing  his  arm  had  received 
caused  most  trouble,  pus  gathering  near  the  bone,  under 
the  larger  muscles.  The  wounds  could  easily  be  washed 
out,  but  deeper  in,  the  poisonous  matter  lay,  and  I  was 
afraid  to  lance  it  as  I  did  not  know  what  harm  I  might  do. 
Momba  had  a  temperature  for  almost  seven  weeks.  His 
whole  left  arm  remained  dreadfully  swollen,  but  gradually 
improvement  set  in.  After  a  time  he  could  eat  well  and 


8o  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

sleep  well,  and  when  we  reached  Laikipia  we  were  fortunate 
indeed  in  securing  the  help  of  a  medical  missionary,  who 
probed  and  lanced  the  arm,  leaving  in  drainage  tubes,  so 
that  in  a  week  all  swelling  had  gone. 

Nine  weeks  after  his  mauling,  Momba  marched  off  joy- 
ously on  an  eighty  mile  tramp  to  greet  his  four  expectant 
Kikuyu  wives,  dropping  sundry  hints  that  as  he  was  now 
possessed  of  seventy-five  rupees  he  might  add  to  their 
number! 


CHAPTER  IV 

MY  FIRST  LION 

YEAR  after  year  it  grows  harder  to  get  lions  to  stand. 
Even  three  years  ago  it  was  more  common  than  it  is 
now  to  have  a  lion  you  come  on  suddenly,  "wait  a  little  on 
his  departing/'  taking  stock,  first  of  all,  of  the  intruder  on  his 
demesne  before  slinking  away.  That  first  questioning  pause 
was  of  course  the  hunter's  golden  opportunity,  and  the  man 
who  was  always  ready,  and  the  initiated  know  well  not  one 
sportsman  in  ten  belongs  to  that  category,  gathered  his  roses 
while  he  might  —  or  rather  —  promptly  got  his  lion. 

Now  if  you  see  a  lion  in  the  open,  and  he  sees  you,  which 
nine  out  of  ten  times  he  does,  before  even  good  native  eyes 
see  him,  he  is  sure  to  beat  a  retreat,  even  though  you  may 
be  a  thousand  yards  away.  He  will  retreat,  too,  at  a  pace 
that  makes  pursuit  on  foot  out  of  the  question.*  And  he 
will  make  off  in  a  careless  cunning  way,  as  though  he  was 
going  off  anyway  on  business  of  his  own,  with  which  your 
coming  on  the  scene  had  nothing  whatever  to  do.  That  is 
his  game.  Again  and  again  I  have  seen  lions  follow  it  so  long 
as  they  had  the  enemy  in  sight.  You,  of  course,  encouraged 
by  so  slow  and  leisurely  a  departure,  as  soon  as  some  slope 
of  the  ground  or  other  welcome  shelter  affords  you  the  chance 
run  for  all  you  are  worth  to  make  up  distance,  and  full  of 
hope,  if  you  are  out  of  wind,  panting,  you  raise  your  head 
cautiously  about  the  cover  almost  sure  of  a  shot.  Alas,  no! 
The  moment  you  were  out  of  sight,  could  you  but  have  seen 
him,  you  would  have  been  surprised  to  see  your  quarry, 

*  I  mention,  later,  circumstances  under  which,  even  when  lions  see  the  hunter  and  get  away  —  they 
can  be  followed  up  on  foot,  and  probably  one  at  least  shot. 

Si 


82  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

throw  to  the  winds  his  feigned  indifference,  and  "clear" 
like  a  frightened  cat. 

Surely  like  all  wild  animals,  the  lion  is  learning  and  learn- 
ing quickly  the  lesson  the  modern  rifle  so  effectually  teaches. 
Tigers,  Indian  Shekaris  tell  us,  do  not  charge  as  they  did. 
Our  own  grizzly  bear,  of  whose  fierce  savagery,  we  feel 
ourselves  (in  honour  to  the  country  of  big  things)  bound  to 
make  the  most  —  may  have  in  Lewis  and  Clark's  days 
charged  in  quite  orthodox  fashion.  I  have  proved,  to  my 
own  satisfaction  at  any  rate,  that  he  is  not  half  as  likely 
to  charge  as  a  wounded  water  buck  to-day. 

Anyway  lions  won't  stand.  If  they  do  stand  for  you, 
count  yourself  lucky.  If  you  come  on  one  at  a  few  yards  off, 
his  surprise  will  chain  him  to  where  he  is,  for  —  well-long 
enough  for  a  ready  man  to  shoot  him.  Then  under  these 
circumstances  the  surprise  sometimes  is  mutual.  A  friend 
of  mine  was  hunting  with  another  man  on  the  Athi  three 
years  ago.  They  divided,  each  walking  on  the  edge  of  a 
narrow  water  course  —  an  excellent  place  to  chance  on  a 
lion.  My  friend's  companion  had  come  all  the  way  to  the 
Protectorate  to  get  a  lion,  so  he  kept  saying.  He  cared  to 
shoot  nothing  else.  Presently  out  of  the  yellow  nulla  grass 
a  fine  male  lion  stepped  right  in  front  of  him,  and,  not  seeing 
him  stood  at  thirty  yards  distance  stock  still.  The  would- 
be  lion  slayer  stood  stock  still  too,  and  the  lion  walked  back 
into  the  cover,  and  he  back  to  camp,  a  disconcerted 
man.  Of  course  he  never  had  another  chance  like  that  and 
went  home  wiser  if  lion-less. 

My  own  chance  seemed  as  though  it  would  never  come. 
J.  J.  W.  saw  ten  or  eleven  different  lions.  He  longed  to 
give  me  his  luck  but  could  not.  Morning  after  morning  I 
left  camp  at  dawn  and  carefully  searched  the  country 
where  I  had  marked  their  nightly  roaring.  I  could  only 
comfort  myself  by  repeating  my  own  old  fisherman's  motto, 
"  If  you  want  salmon  keep  your  fly  in  the  water."  Some- 


MY  FIRST  LION  83 

times  when  I  had  had  an  unusually  long  and  useless  tramp 
of  it,  that  unlucky  railroad  engineer,  running  up  and  down 
the  best  lion  country,  in  his  spider  with  his  rifle  in  front  of 
him,  yet  never  seeing  a  lion,  would  dismally  recur  to  me. 
My  friend  was  sympathy  itself  and  even  offered  to  lend  me 
an  Indian  charm  of  potency  immense,  a  notable  chief  had 
given  him  long  ago.  But  he  kept  seeing  lions  and  I  didn't. 
It  was  almost  three  weeks  since  we  had  so  bunglingly  rounded 
up  J.  J.  W.'s  first  lion  that  I  shot  mine. 

We  had  made  permanent  camp  near  a  fine  spring  of  water, 
and  in  a  most  excellent  game  country,  some  twenty  miles 
north  of  Sergoit.  Five  miles  to  the  westward  ran  the  deep 
valley  of  the  Nzoia  and  across  it  rose  the  Elgao  ridges.  The 
grass  on  this  bushy  part  of  the  country  was  by  now  beginning 
to  grow  long.  The  herds  do  much  to  keep  it  down,  but 
especially  among  the  thorn  trees,  in  patches  of  a  few  acres, 
it  would  partly  hide  the  smaller  antelope,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  that  my  chances  of  success  lessened  daily.  One 
morning,  after  almost  four  hours'  hunting,  about  ten  o'clock, 
I  was  riding  near  the  edge  of  the  great  Nzoia  valley,  when 
suddenly  I  heard,  or  thought  I  heard,  a  low  purring  grunt. 
I  stopped  my  gunbearers  and  questioned  them.  The  Somali, 
Dooda,  said  it  was  only  the  mule,  but  Kongoni  said  simba, 
and  I  felt  myself  that  it  was  simba  (lion). 

Now  the  lion  makes  a  good  many  different  noises  (of  that 
much  debated  question  more  anon).  But  this  little  social 
family  circle  grunt,  is  a  most  difficult  sound  to  locate.  In 
this  respect  and  in  this  alone,  it  is  like  the  very,  what  shall  I 
.say?  "trying"  grunt  angry  lions  and  lionesses  give  when 
they  are  near  you  in  the  grass.  This  may  come  from  thirty 
yards  away,  and  it  may  be  at  your  very  feet.  And  I  say 
again,  and  advisedly,  a  cool  man  often  cannot  locate  it  at  all. 
Then  if  anything  can  beat  him,  the  repetition  of  that  growling 
snarl  coming  from  everywhere  and  nowhere  surely  will. 

After  a  good  night's  hunting,  lions  like  to  dry  off  a  bit  in 


84  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

the  sun.  And  when,  as  now,  the  grass  is  growing,  and  the 
dew  lies  heavy  after  the  night,  they  will  choose  some  high 
dry  ant  heap  for  a  morning  conclave,  and  a  needed  sun- 
bath.  All  through  this  lower  Nzoia  country,  the  ant  hills 
some  of  them  of  great  size,  stand  thickly,  and  the  game  has 
a  habit  of  mounting  them  and  looking  around.  You  see  a 
level  unobstructed  stretch  of  green  grass  for  a  hundred  yards 
or  so  before  you.  Then  a  group  of  ant  hills,  with  thorny 
bushes  in  clumps  of  ten  or  fifteen  yards  in  diameter,  standing 
between  them.  Then  an  acre  or  two  of  higher  ripening 
grass,  the  whole  forming  an  ideal  stalking  country,  also  a 
sort  of  place  where  wounded  game  may  require  some  reach- 
ing for.  It  was  through  this  sort  of  thing  we  had  advanced 
very  silently  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more,  when  another 
purring  grunt  sounded,  not  a  bit  nearer  than  the  first, 
but  as  we  were  all  expectancy,  and  the  mule  was  away 
behind  us,  we  heard  it  clearly  this  time  and  knew  it  was 
made  by  a  lion.  Almost  immediately  afterward  my 
Brownie  whispered  "simba"  pointing  at  a  clump  of  bushes 
two  hundred  yards  away,  and  I  knew  that  after  long  waiting 
I  was  at  least  within  shooting  distance  of  a  lion  at  last.  To 
many  a  man  such  a  moment  may  have  come  as  an  ordinary 
one,  but  not  so  to  me.  Day  after  day  for  five  long  months, 
I  had  never  gone  out  hunting  in  the  early  morning  without 
hoping  and  longing  to  find  myself  face  to  face  with  the  finest 
beast  in  the  world ;  the  lion  of  British  East  Africa  —  and 
though  I  cannot  say  that  hope  deferred  made  the  heart  sick 
in  my  case  it  certainly  did  make  the  hunter  keen. 

One  hundred  and  seventy  yards  in  front  of  the  bush  we 
crouched  under,  a  bushy  screen  of  thorn  stretched  for  twenty 
or  thirty  yards.  Beyond  that  rose  a  wide  low  red  ant  hill, 
and  round  the  warm  sunny  bare  base  of  it,  there  seemed  to 
be  a  buff  coloured  yellowish  mass.  The  intervening  thorns 
hid  the  crown  of  the  ant  hill,  and  anything  there  might  be 
on  it  was  invisible  to  me,  but  the  fawn  coloured  mass  at  the 


MY  FIRST  LION  85 

base  just  showed  movement  to  the  naked  eye,  and  through 
the  glass  I  saw  legs,  tails,  yellow  flanks,  and  heads  all  pressed 
together,  as  that  great  cat  family  —  the  lord,  his  harem  and 
their  offspring  —  took  their  pleasure  in  the  sun.  The  bushy 
screen  that  hid  them  from  me  was  far  too  dense  to  permit  of 
my  shooting  through  it,  even  if  the  light  were  sufficient  to 
enable  me  to  draw  a  sight  on  any  one  lion  in  that  huddled 
mass,  which  it  was  not,  so  my  position  was  a  tantalizing,  and 
an  also  uncertain  one.  I  was  fully  200  yards  from  my 
game.  The  wind  was  very  light,  and,  as  it  is  apt  to  be  in 
the  early  morning,  very  treacherous.  The  little  silvery 
spiral  wreaths  of  dew  smoke  rose  gently  twisting  in  the  air 
as  the  sun  searched  out  the  shaded  grass  under  an  over- 
hanging bough,  and  as  they  rose  they  drifted  every  way. 
I  noticed  them  anxiously  as  I  sat  there,  my  heart  I  admit, 
beating  fast.  My  gunbearers  Dooda  and  Brownie,  were 
greatly  excited,  and  I  at  once  made  up  my  mind  to  pay  no 
attention  to  their  tugs  and  beseeching  whisperings  to  right  and 
left  of  me  —  tugs  I  say,  for  they  were  pulling  me  first  one 
way  then  the  other  — but  to  do  as  I  thought  best  myself.  A 
choice  had  to  be  made  and  that  right  quickly.  Here  was  the 
situation:  the  patch  of  thorn  that  shielded  the  lions  from 
me,  and  through  the  thinning  lower  stems  of  which  I  could 
just  make  out  their  colour,  but  not  their  form,  was  about  twenty 
yards  across,  and,  as  I  said,  two  hundred  yards  away.  From 
where  we  crouched,  two  narrow  green  aisles  of  open  grass, 
only  a  few  yards  wide,  passed  on  either  side  of  it.  As  I  sat 
I  could  command  the  one  to  my  right,  but  not  possibly  the 
one  to  my  left.  I  could  from  no  point  command  both  at  the 
same  time.  Beyond  these  little  bush  lined  avenues  of  grass 
there  was  more  cover;  and  though  it  was  quite  open  enough 
in  many  places  to  shoot  through  or  shoot  over,  there  would  be 
little  chance  of  a  steady  sitting  shot,  and  that  above  every- 
thing was  what  I  wanted  to  get  at  my  first  lion.  Which  way 
would  the  pack  take  ?  I  thought  hard  and  concluded  to 


86  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

chance  it  to  my  left.  It  instantaneously  occurred  to  me 
that  in  that  direction  lay  the  steep  river  valley  on  whose 
edge  we  had  been  hunting,  and  there  was  more  probability 
of  the  lions  denning  up  for  the  heat  of  the  day  among  its 
rocks,  than  in  the  opener  country  to  the  right.  The  lions 
couldn't  see  me,  the  danger  was  that  they  would  smell, 
and  that  increased  moment  by  moment.  I  might  crawl 
fifty  yards  nearer,  and  chance  a  shot  through  the  tough 
intervening  thorn  stems,  but  I  knew  that  would  be  foolish- 
ness. The  band  would  scatter,  the  surrounding  cover  was 
long  and  I  might  get  nothing  at  all.  If  I  got  a  shot,  on  the 
other  hand,  at  the  leader,  lion  or  lioness,  I  was  likely  to  hit 
a  fine  animal. 

These  thoughts  and  hopes,  and  far  more  unnerving 
desperate  fears,  that  after  all  I  could  not  get  one,  that  they 
would  escape  me,  whirled  through  my  brain,  as  I  sat  still, 
before  I  made  up  my  mind  what  I  would  do.  I  knew  of 
course  that  if  the  wind  did  give  me  away,  the  lions  might 
just  retire  behind  the  ant  heap  they  were  lying  on,  and  then 
it  was  "good-bye"  and  all  my  trouble  to  begin  over  again. 
But  I  was  not  without  hope  that  when  they  got  the  wind, 
they  would  come  forth  just  for  one  moment  to  make  sure, 
and  I  staked  my  all  on  that.  If  hard  luck  had  been  mine  in 
my  long  waiting,  surely  fortune  would  smile  on  me  at  last. 
I  crawled  away  from  my  men,  ignoring  a  last  agonized 
whisper  from  Dooda,  and  sat  up  in  the  grass,  here  two  feet 
high,  where  I  could  command  the  side  toward  the  river, 
I  rested  my  elbows  on  my  knees  and  waited. 

Was  there  a  big  lion  among  them?  Would  they  clear 
at  once  ?  or  would  they  wait  and  make  sure  ?  Would  they 
stand  ?  Would  they  charge  ?  I  had  my  tense,  glorious 
moment  surely.  I  could  hear  the  panting  breath  of  the  two 
men  who  had  crawled  out  after  me,  and  were  now  crouching 
beside  me.  And  then  at  the  long  last  fortune  smiled  on  me 
indeed.  I  saw  a  movement  among  the  fawny  mass.  And 


MY  FIRST  LION  87 

slowly,  casually,  out  of  the  bosom  of  his  family  he  came. 
And  the  lion  of  my  dreams  he  seemed.  Big  and  black  with 
no  common  blackness,  surely  the  true  king  of  that  wild  and 
beautiful  place.  Slowly  on  and  on,  till  in  the  middle  of  the 
green  grassy  aisle  he  stood,  the  sun  shining  full  on  his  mag- 
nificent coat,  and  the  dark  rich  low  hanging  mane  that 
covered  his  shoulders.  Then  slowly,  carelessly,  he  turned, 
his  broad  black  head  toward  me  and  sniffed  the  tainted  air 
that  drifted  down  to  him  over  the  dewy  grass.  I  had  kept 
my  "fly  in  the  water"  and  my  chance  had  come  at  last. 
Who  shall  attempt  to  describe  the  feelings  of  the  man  who 
after  long  waiting,  when  the  golden  chance  comes  to  him, 
knows  as  he  steadily  presses  the  yielding  trigger  home,  that 
he  is  "on!"  That  triumphant  instant  may  be  the  result 
of  some  dark  survival  of  barbarism  within  him :  all  the  same 
it  is  "living!"  It  is  glorious!  It  was  mine,  and  is  part  of 
me  forever. 

A  deep  grunting  roar  answered  the  shot,  and  quickly  he 
swung  round  his  body  toward  where  it  came  from.  As 
he  did  so  I  fired  very  quickly  again,  just  as  fast  as  I  could 
move  my  Mauser's  bolt. 

Then  he  saw  me,  and  with  another  deep  grunt  came 
straight  for  where  I  sat  with  great  long  bounds.  When  I 
say  he  roared  to  the  shot,  I  do  not  mean  that  he  made  any 
sound  at  all  comparable  to  that  first  terrible  roar  that  the 
lion  that  mauled  Momba  made  when  he  charged  in  on  the 
men.  None  of  our  party  ever  heard  any  lion  deliver  so 
loud  and  awe-inspiring  a  signal  of  onset.  Several  other 
lions  that  I  shot  later  on  just  growled  angrily  as  they  came 
forward,  a  nasty  enough  sound  for  any  one.  But  that  first 
dying  beast  made  more  noise  than  all  of  them  put  together. 
The  distance  from  where  I  sat  to  where  the  lion  stood  I 
measured  carefully  afterward.  It  was  one  hundred  and 
seventy  yards;  and  now  he  came  one  hundred  and  twenty 
of  them,  faster  than  I  could  have  believed  it  possible  for  any 


88  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

badly  wounded  beast  to  come.  The  grass  was  just  long 
enough  to  hide  his  body  from  me,  except  when  he  was  actu- 
ally bounding  in  his  stride.  If  I  had  risen  to  my  feet  of 
course  I  could  have  seen  him  more  clearly,  but  I  had  thought 
the  whole  thing  out  beforehand  and  had  determined  to 
remain  seated  With  elbow  on  your  knee  you  have  an 
absolutely  steady  rest,  and  are  not  nearly  as  apt  to  throw 
away  a  shot  as  you  may  be  standing  up.  So  I  sat  fast, 
determined  not  to  fire  again  until  I  could  kill  him  dead,  even 
if  I  had  to  let  him  come  to  within  a  very  few  yards  of  me. 
I  knew,  besides,  that  I  had  hit  him  and  hit  him  hard  the  first 
shot,  and  I  hoped  I  had  landed  the  second,  but  could  not  be 
sure.  I  did  not  believe  he  could  last  the  distance,  certainly 
not  at  the  pace  he  started  at.  One  more  reason  pinned  me 
to  the  ground.  It  was  my  first  lion.  It  was  all-important  to 
give  my  gunbearers  confidence.  If  I  stood  up  they  might 
be  dancing  round  me,  and  in  spite  of  the  awful  threatenings 
I  had  fulminated  against  anyone  who  should  ever  under  any 
circumstances  fire  one  of  my  guns,  the  guns  might  have 
gone  off  of  themselves,  as  gunbearers'  guns  have  a  way  of 
doing;  whereas,  if  I  sat,  they  must  sit,  too;  and  sitting 
sobered  them.  I  glanced  at  my  men  quickly  as  he  made 
that  grand  rush  over  the  first  hundred  yards,  and  it  was  well 
I  did.  My  Wakamba,  Brownie,  was  sitting  still  as  a  stone. 
But  the  Somali,  Dooda,  his  eyes  and  teeth  gleaming,  raised 
my  double  .450  to  his  shoulder,  and  was  on  the  point  of  firing, 
when  I  hit  him  with  my  right  elbow  under  the  chin  a  smart 
rap,  which  had  the  effect  of  putting  him  and  the  gun  out  of 
commission  for  a  few  minutes.  It  had  to  be  done;  a  gun- 
bearer  firing  off  your  spare  gun  may  cost  you  your  life. 
How  long  it  takes  to  tell  of  these  few  intense  seconds! 
How  quickly  they  are  over! 

At  about  fifty  yards  he  raised  his  head  high  above  the 
grass  and  slowed  down  to  a  trot,  and  as  I  saw  his  breast  I 
shot  full  into  it,  and  the  great  dark  head  and  yellow  eyes 


MY  FIRST  LION  89 

sank  slowly  from  sight  again.  There  was  just  one  instant's 
pause,  and  out  of  the  grass  came  the  big  forefeet  and  the  tip 
of  the  tail.  He  was  dead  without  a  groan.  I  turned  as 
quickly  as  I  could  to  see  what  had  become  of  the  rest. 
I  was  only  in  time  to  fire  at  a  large  lioness  as  she  made  off  in 
the  grass.  I  missed  her,  and  I  did  not  care,  to  tell  the  truth. 
I  had  drunk  deep  just  then,  and  was  quite  contented  to  let 
the  whole  family  of  them  go.  Had  I  not  seen  the  great  paws 
of  the  king  himself  stretched  upward  to  the  sky !  My  men 
ran  to  the  ant  hill  and  could  count  the  troop  as  they  crossed 
the  distant  rise  of  land.  I  went  over  and  stood  by  my  first 
lion.  When  they  returned  they  told  me  that  they  had 
counted  eight  lionesses  and  half  grown  or  three-quarter 
grown  pups.  He  was  a  magnificent  fellow  indeed,  very 
large  and  in  fine  condition  with  a  quite  first-class  mane.  As 
he  lay  dead,  the  tape  passed  from  the  tip  of  the  nose  to  the 
tip  of  the  tail  gave  him  ten  feet  five  inches;  the  stretched 
skin  was  twelve  feet  six  inches.  When  our  rejoicings  were 
abated  a  little,  Dooda  remembered  his  jaw,  and  coming  up 
to  me  with  a  rueful  countenance  said,  "  But  you  do  kill  me." 
I  told  him  that  next  time  he  attempted  to  fire  my  rifle  while 
he  was  my  gunbearer  I  should  hit  him  not  with  my  elbow 
but  with  the  stock  of  my  rifle,  as  he  would  endanger  all 
our  lives.  He  never  as  it  happened  required  another  lesson, 
and  really  was  a  good  hunter  and  brave  man,  but  like 
most  Somalis  very  excitable.  Once  afterward  when  he  saw 
a  lion  in  thick  scrub  suddenly  he  gripped  my  arm  with  so 
tense  a  grip  that  I  could  not  use  it  for  a  moment,  so  later 
I  said  to  him,  "Dooda,  I  will  show  you  the  way  to  touch 
your  man's  arm  when  you  think  you  see  something  that  he 
does  not."  And  I  gripped  as  fiercely  as  I  could  the  inside  of 
his  arm  where  he  had  held  mine.  He  danced,  of  course, 
with  the  pain,  but  admitted  after  that  he  deserved  it.  So  the 
lion  was  skinned  and  brought  to  camp,  and  I  heard  for  the 
first  time  that  weird  Somali  chant  which  the  Wakamba  and 


90  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Wanyamwazi  have  already  learned  from  the  Somali,  and 
which  they  call  the  "Lion  Song."  Fully  a  mile  from  our 
camp  my  gunboys  raised  the  song,  and  when  we  were  still 
so  far  away,  that  the  men's  figures  seemed  but  little  moving 
dots  the  porters  heard  it  and  came  streaming  out  to  meet  us. 
My  men  had  put  green  sprigs  in  their  hats;  the  porters  who 
ran  to  meet  us  stuck  greenery  in  their  woolly  hair  and 
danced  round  us,  as  bearing  the  great  skin,  my  little  party 
marched  proudly  as  they  camp  into  came.  If  I  had  had  bad 
luck  finding  the  lion  until  now,  fortune  did  what  she  could, 
during  the  next  few  days  to  make  up  to  me  for  past  disfavour. 
The  day  after  I  had  shot  my  first  lion  I  was  up  betimes  as 
usual  in  the  morning,  but  saw  nothing.  But  the  day  after 
that  I  came  on  a  band  of  nine.  My  gunbearers  and  I  had 
reached  a  place  about  six  miles  from  camp  when,  as  we  were 
crossing  a  hard  red  earth  ridge,  Brownie  noticed  a  faint  sign 
and  took  it  up.  When  we  came  to  a  dewy  patch  of  short 
grass,  it  showed  quite  fresh,  and  was  joined  by  a  second.  A 
little  later  a  third  came  to  company,  and  the  men  con- 
cluded we  had  come  on  the  sign  of  a  band  of  lions  that  were 
gathering  to  a  point,  a  rendezvous  —  they  have  made  after 
they  have  been  hunting  in  a  long  and  extended  line.  I  have 
never  been  able  to  see  lions  doing  this,  but  I  think  that  when 
they  hunt  in  packs  there  can  be  no  doubt  as  to  the  method 
they  usually  follow.  Perhaps  one  or  two  keep  uttering  at 
intervals  the  deep  resonant  grunt  or  roar.  This  alarms  the 
game,  and  makes  it  run  hither  and  thither,  if  it  cannot  get 
the  lion's  wind  and  these,  hunting  up  wind,  take  good  care 
that  this  is  impossible.  The  rest  of  the  band  hunt  silently 
and  the  stampeded  zebra,  or  kongoni,  rush  near  enough  to 
some  of  them  come  within  the  range  of  the  lion's  short  but 
terribly  swift  charge.  When  rain  has  fallen,  it  is  often 
possible  to  read  in  the  morning  quite  plainly,  the  story  of 
the  oft-repeated  tragedy  of  the  night.  There  closely  clumped 
lay  the  zebra,  some  lying  down,  others  on  the  watch,  and  ia 


MY  FIRST  LION  91 

the  tell-tale  earth  you  see  where  one,  two,  sometimes  many 
lions,  lionesses,  and  cubs,  drew  the  fatal  circle  round  them. 
The  little  knot  of  zebra  burst  forth  in  all  directions,  scatter- 
ing like  an  exploded  shell,  and  here  one  of  them  racing  for 
dear  life,  has  been  stricken  down;  here  the  soft  paws  of  the 
lion  bite  into  the  ground,  and  the  deep  indentations  tell  their 
own  story  of  his  rush  and  spring.  A  few  yards  away  lie 
the  remains  of  his  prey,  killed  with  scarcely  a  struggle  by 
one  bite  back  of  the  ears,  or,  if  as  is  sometimes  the  case, 
the  lion  has  missed  his  spring,  the  zebra  hoofs  cut  deep  into 
the  soil  as  he  rushes  away,  and  the  lion's  stride  shortens  at 
once,  and  the  tracks  swing  back  to  those  of  the  band.  Zebra 
are  his  favourite  game.  They  are  fat,  and  seemingly  easier 
to  stampede  and  pull  down  than  waterbuck,  Kongoni  or 
eland.  But  strange  things  happen  in  the  to  us  so  little 
understood  animal  world.  Even  in  places  where  game  is 
very  abundant,  and  the  lions  fat  and  flourishing,  I  have 
found  a  lion  "kill,"  where,  disdaining  zebra  or  kongoni, 
his  majesty  deigned  to  eat  up  a  cheetah  (A  cheetah,  is  first 
cousin  to  the  leopard,  more  lightly  built  and  much  faster, 
claws  non-retractile,  spots  solid  black  not  like  those  of  the 
leopard  black  but  circular,  skin  much  lighter).  I  have 
known  a  lion  that  had  well  feasted  on  an  elephant,  finish  off 
his  repast  by  eating  almost  an  entire  hyena,  the  last  sort  of 
a  dish  you  would  think  he  would  choose.  This  hyena  was 
not  eaten  by  his  own  kith  and  kin,  but  by  a  lion,  and  while 
unlimited  elephant  meat,  of  which  lions  are  very  fond  was 
lying  within  a  few  feet.  There  often  seems  to  be  as  little 
sense  displayed  by  lions  hunting,  as  there  is  poor  discern- 
ment shown  by  them  in  their  gastronomy.  H.  of  whom  I 
speak  later,  who  has  killed  many  lions  and  is  what  very 
few  professional  hunters  are,  observant,  saw  four  lions  try- 
to  stalk  a  band  of  waterbuck  in  broad  daylight.  It  was  after 
nine  o'clock.  The  great  antelope  simply  played  with  their 
enemies,  would  let  the  crouching  hunters  come  as  near  as 


92  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

they  (the  antelope)  saw  fit  and  then  gallop  away.  This 
evidently  hopeless  performance  was  repeated  several  times, 
and  the  curious  thing  about  it  was,  that  the  hungry  beasts 
were  so  intent  on  their  hunting,  that  they  didn't  observe 
the  men  hunting  them,  and  so  came  on  and  on  until  three  of 
them  were  shot. 

Usually  all  attempt  at  hunting  seems  to  be  abandoned  by 
the  lions  are  soon  as  the  sun  is  up.  I  have  see  more  than 
once  lions  quietly  trotting  off  like  big  dogs  going  to  kennel, 
bound  for  their  reedbed  haunt;  and  the  game  herds  would 
just  look  at  them  a  moment,  and  moving  a  little  way  out  of 
their  path,  let  them  pass.  Indeed  they  scarcely  stopped 
feeding.  But  let  me  get  back  to  my  own  lion  band.  The 
spoor  on  the  dewy  grass  was  fresh  as  could  be  as  we  crept 
along.  In  a  few  hundred  yards  we  were  off  our  grassy  ridge, 
where  the  herbage  had  been  cropped  quite  short,  and  on 
the  edge  of  a  large  patch  of  unburned  grass,  grass  that 
had  somehow  escaped  the  autumn  fires  (which  sweep 
all  over  the  country).  It  was  the  old  story.  When 
lions  lie  up  for  the  day,  they  choose  their  retreat  wisely. 
We  were  in  a  nasty  bit  of  ground,  the  bushes  grew 
very  thick,  and  the  tangle  mounted  in  many  places  above 
our  waists.  Brownie  to  my  left  suddenly  sank  down, 
and  I  heard  again  the  soft  purring  noise,  but  could  not 
for  my  life  say  whether  it  was  behind  my  back  or  in 
front.  I  saw  that  he  saw  them;  but  as  I  came  to  his 
side  there  was  a  soft  swishing  sound  in  the  grass  some 
fifty  yards  away,  and  for  an  instant  the  strangest  con- 
glomeration imaginable  of  sticking  up  and  sticking  out 
tails  whisked  off  before  me,  and  yet  one  single  lioness  or 
lion  I  could  not  see. 

They  had  been  sunning  themselves,  as  had  my  first  band, 
on  the  other  side  of  an  ant  heap,  drying  the  heavy  dew  off 
their  coats,  and  of  course  one  or  two  had  lain  down  with 
their  noses  just  on  the  edge  of  the  ant  hill  looking  down  their 


MY  FIRST  LION  93 

back  track.     These  had  warned  their  fellows  in  time,  and 
into  the  grass  the  whole  lot  plunged. 

One  advantage  the  hunter  has  in  such  cover.  It  is  the 
easiest  cover  possible  to  track  lions  in.  I  had  never  been  told 
this,  never  indeed  had  read  it  or  heard  it,  but  anyone  could 
follow  the  trail  that  the  band  left,  and  at  a  half  run  we  went 
after  them.  This  sounds  far  more  dangerous  than  it 
really  was.  A  lioness  will  sometimes  charge  when  she  has 
cubs  with  her.  A  young  Englishman  went  home  seriously 
crippled,  I  fear,  from  Nairobi  a  few  days  ago,  who  was 
mauled  by  an  unwounded  lioness. 

He  and  some  others  had  been  looking  for  her.  None 
of  them  knew  of  the  cubs,  and  having  hunted  long  in  vain, 
gave  her  up  and  turned  home.  On  the  way  he  almost 
stepped  on  her,  and  she  had  him  down  in  an  instant.  But 
usually  there  is  very  little  danger  in  following  lions  into 
grass  or  swamp  unless  one  is  wounded,  and  I  am  inclined  to 
think,  though  I  have  only  my  own  limited  experience  to  fall 
back  on  for  proof  of  my  theory,  that  large  bands  of  lions  are 
not  as  dangerous  as  lions  in  two  or  threes.  Anyway  we 
followed  them  in,  and  presently  got  somehow  right  among 
them.  I  did  my  best  to  see  something  to  shoot  at,  but  wav- 
ing grass  or  a  quickly  moving  bit  of  fawny  fur,  offered  no 
mark  in  such  cover.  I  made  up  my  mind  at  the  beginning 
of  my  sefari  life  that  I  never,  never,  would  shoot  at  danger- 
ous game  until  I  knew  exactly  where  I  was  shooting.  I  am 
very  sure  the  rule  is  a  good  one,  and  much  trouble  would  be 
avoided  if  every  man  going  after  dangerous  game,  and  hav- 
ing his  men's  lives  on  his  conscience,  to  say  nothing  of  his 
own,  strictly  adhered  to  it.  There  were  lions  on  each  side 
of  us,  and  the  grass  waving  in  front  showed  that  there  were 
more  ahead.  They  growled  now  and  then  all  around,  but 
not  one  of  us  could  locate  the  sound.  Try  as  I  would  I  could 
get  no  shot.  I  think  I  made  a  mistake  here,  moved  thereto 
by  the  entreaties  of  Dooda  who  was  rather  nervous.  Both 


94  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

of  my  men  by  the  way  had  been  mauled  before,  and  changed 
my  .350  for  my  .450,  a  good  gun,  but  one  I  never  learned 
to  shoot  as  well  with  as  the  former.  We  kept  on  after  the 
lions  in  front,  for  most  of  the  pack  seemed  there,  and  I 
had  to  slow  up  again  and  again  to  wipe  off  my  glasses,  as 
the  sweat  blinded  me.  All  the  time  the  lions  seemed  to 
know  that  I  could  not  hunt  them  in  their  own  chosen  cover, 
and  they  took  matters  leisurely,  sometimes  passing  rapidly 
ahead  of  me,  and  then  allowing  me  to  come  up  till  I  could 
guess  their  proximity  by  the  low  growling  that  would  rise 
from  two  sides  at  once,  and  that  seemed  almost  under  my 
feet,  but  yet  could  not  be  exactly  placed.  It  was  jumpy 
work  enough,  and  the  tangled,  unburned  grass,  made  the 
rapid  walking  very  hard.  It  was  easy  to  keep  their  trail, 
for  the  low,  heavy  bodies  left  unmistakable  tracks  in  the 
still  wet  grass,  and  we  pushed  on  without  pause  or  check. 
At  last  a  head  was  raised  clean  above  the  grass  some  eighty 
yards  away,  and  I  steadied  myself  to  fire.  As  I  was  on  the 
point  of  pressing  the  trigger  Dooda  pulled  my  arm  down, 
and  pointed  to  a  large  lioness  that  was  standing  quite  close 
at  my  left,  some  twenty  yards  away.  She  was  in  a  tall  bit  of 
grass,  and  none  of  us  had  seen  her.  As  I  turned  she  van- 
ished. The  lion  in  front  during  the  instant's  delay,  had  sat 
up  on  his  hind  legs  and  gave  me  a  fair  shot  at  his  chest, 
which  I  hit  full,  though  I  was  shaking  a  bit  from  exercise, 
and  my  glasses  were  terribly  foggy.  He  jumped  high  in  the 
air,  came  down  on  all  four  feet,  and,  of  course,  vanished. 
The  shot  seemed  to  scatter  the  band.  The  grass  tracks 
separated  in  every  direction.  We  came  cautiously  to  where 
I  had  hit  him,  and  found  a  heavy  blood  trail  easy  to  follow. 
Then  I  set  Brownie  to  track  him,  and  made  Dooda  look 
ahead,  for  my  eyes  are  not  much  good  at  any  time,  and 
my  glasses  all  foggy  from  perspiration  were  of  little  use  in 
detecting  such  a  difficult  thing  to  see  as  a  wounded  lion 
always  is. 


MY  FIRST  LION  95 

We  had  not  gone  over  a  hundred  yards,  when  Dooda 
touched  my  arm  and  pointed  out  the  lion,  a  three-quarters 
grown  male,  lying  not  quite  facing  me,  under  a  bush, 
looking  sick,  but  with  head  still  up.  He  growled,  and  I, 
so  close  was  he,  shot  for  his  neck.  To  my  amazement  he 
got  up  and  instead  of  collapsing,  walked  away,  when  I 
killed  him  immediately.  That  shot  was  a  lesson  to  me. 
I  found  I  had  cut  a  groove  in  his  mane  and  just  drawn  blood. 
I  measured  the  distance.  It  was  a  scanty  fourteen  yards. 
How  I  missed  I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  We  never  came 
up  again  with  the  band.  They  ran  out  of  the  cover,  where 
I  had  been  among  them,  over  a  ridge  into  an  open  bit  of 
country,  and  we  gave  them  up.  There  were  nine  in  this 
lot,  and  we  never  saw  a  big  male  among  them,  though, 
of  course,  there  may  have  been  one  of  these  in  front  of 
the  band. 

The  very  next  day  at  about  the  same  distance  from  camp, 
in  another  direction,  Brownie  and  I,  who  were  at  this  time 
alone,  came  on  a  fresh  lion  sign  beside  a  puddle  of  rain 
water.  The  tracking  was  most  difficult,  the  ground  rocky, 
and  hard.  We  took  more  than  an  hour  going  a  mile. 
Things  then  improved.  The  ground  was  grassier,  and 
softer,  and  another  lion  came  to  company;  then  another 
and  another.  Once  more  we  were  after  a  band.  It  was  a 
glorious  fresh  morning  in  June,  not  nearly  as  hot  as  the  day 
before,  and  I  could  see  how  keen  my  boy  was  to  show  me 
that  I  needed  no  other  guide  than  he.  We  hadn't  gone 
more  than  a  mile  farther,  when  I  saw  with  my  Zeiss  an  old 
gray-headed  lioness's  nose  just  sticking  out  over  an  anthill 
about  500  yards  in  our  front.  As  I  looked  she  drew  her 
head  down,  and  slipped  quietly  into  the  grass.  When 
we  came  to  the  place  four  or  five  different  grass  tracks 
ran  away  from  the  mound,  the  chiefest  and  broadest  made 
by  several  of  them  travelling  together.  So  it  was  evident 
there  was  another  large  gang  on  the  move.  I  fear  one  lion 


g6  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

hunt  sounds  very  much  like  another,  to  those  condemned 
to  read  the  poor  account  of  it;  but  to  the  man  following  up 
the  lion  or  a  band  of  lions,  there  is  sure  to  be  interest  and 
variety  enough.  The  wisest  and  most  experienced  can  never 
tell  what  a  lion  will  do.  Lion  hunting,  to  my  mind,  has  a 
charm  all  its  own.  Nothing  compares  with  it,  and  no  driv- 
ing of  ravines  or  swamps,  or  catching  the  great  cat  at  his  kill, 
is  comparable  to  the  joy  and  steady  excitement  of  tracking 
him  down.  He  chooses  the  ground.  You  follow  him  into 
it.  You  pit  yourself  against  him.  Crouching  flat  against 
the  yellow  earth,  covered  only,  perhaps,  by  a  few  inches 
of  grass,  he  is  almost  unbelievably  hard  to  see.  His  rush 
and  spring  from  a  few  yards  distance,  is  the  fastest  thing  in 
the  world.  No  animal  can  escape  it,  much  less  clumsy, 
slow-footed  man.  He  has  a  chance  to  pay  off  the  universal 
lord  and  master,  the  wrongs  of  the  animal  world,  and  here 
in  East  Africa  the  lion's  revengeful  toll  taken  on  human  life 
and  limb  mounts  high.  In  the  thirteen  months  I  have  been 
on  sefari,  two  white  men  have  been  killed  by  lions  and  fif- 
teen mauled  badly,  to  my  own  knowledge,  and  these  may  not 
include  all  that  have  suffered  from  his  claws  and  fangs. 
The  band  we  were  now  following  would  not  permit  a  close 
approach.  Every  half  mile  or  so  I  could  see  the  rear 
guard  slipping  off  an  ant  hill  or  with  ears  just  raised 
above  the  grass  watching  our  approach.  They  did  not  seem 
to  fear  us,  but  kept  just  out  of  farthest  rifle  shot.  At  last, 
as  I  mounted  a  stifnsh  ridge,  I  had  just  a  glimpse  down 
below  me,  of  a  regular  bunch  of  lions  all  trying  at  the  same 
instant  to  clear  off  an  ant  hill  on  which  they  must  have  been 
packed  together  as  close  as  they  could  be.  Innumerable 
tails  and  hind  legs  seemed  wrapped  and  twisted  together 
as  the  pack  tumbled  again  into  the  long  grass.  (This  may 
seem  a  ludicrous  way  to  speak  of  the  aspect  of  lions  in  a 
pack  when  disturbed.  I  searched  at  the  time  for  words  to 
describe  what  I  saw,  and  neither  then  or  since  can  find 


MY  FIRST  LION 


97 


any  better.)     I  was  keyed  up  for  a  shot  as  I  mounted  the 
ridge,  and  had  my  Mauser's  300  yard  sight  already  raised. 

I  did  not  think  I  should  get  nearer,  and  the  morning 
was  by  now  well  advanced.  I  shot  twice,  as  quickly  as  I 
could,  aiming  for  the  head  of  the  lot,  and  to  my  delight  and 
surprise  heard  each  bullet  tell,  and  two  loud  answering 
grunts.  The  grass  was  here  quite  long.  Perhaps  that 
was  the  reason  our  friends  had  let  us  nearer  than  before. 
We  came,  Brownie  and  I,  down  into  it  cautiously  enough. 
for  two  were  hit,  and  there  must  have  been  at  least  six  or 
eight  others  unwounded. 

When,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  we  came  to  the  edge  of  this 
heavier  cover,  there  was  ominous  growling  from  our  front. 
Until  it  stopped  we  stood  still.  Then  a  farther  advance 
of  ten  or  fifteen  yards  would  be  met  by  more  low  grunt- 
ings.  And  we  would  stand  again.  It  took  some  little 
time  to  reach  the  place  where  the  running  band  was  when 
I  fired  into  the  brown  of  them.  (It  was  much  too  far  away, 
and  there  was  not  time  to  single  out  a  lion.)  Here  we 
saw  that  one  lion  was  shot  low  down  in  the  leg  and  another 
high  up  and  too  far  back  in  the  shoulder,  the  height  of  the 
blood  marks  on  the  grass  and  bushes  marking  quite 
accurately  the  nature  of  the  wounds.  Two  wounded  lions 
in  front  of  us,  the  grass  growing  longer  as  the  plain  sloped 
to  the  river,  bushes  thickening  around  us,  and  several  deep 
brushy  dongas  cutting  our  path  —  this  was,  as  they  would 
say  in  the  West,  rather  a  poor  "layout."  I  will  not  weary 
those  who  have  followed  my  day's  story  so  far  by  detailing 
the  hunting  of  the  next  four  hours,  for  during  all  that  long 
time  did  we  two  steadily  press  that  growling,  protesting 
band,  till  at  last  it  took  cover  in  the  impenetrable  jungle  of  the 
river  border,  not  so  far  from  the  place  where,  almost  a 
month  before,  Momba  had  been  mauled.  I  never  put  in 
before  such  a  four  hours,  and  I  don't  think  I  shall  again. 
The  sun  grew  very  hot,  my  poor  fog-dimmed  eyes  failed 


98  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

me  once,  when  I  might  have  finished  the  big  wounded 
lioness  (for  the  one  shot  high  up  and  far  back  was  an  old 
lioness).     But  having  only  now  one  gunbearer,   Brownie 
had  to  keep  his  eyes  on  the  ground,  and  thus  it  was  we  came 
on  the  old  lioness,  her  head  very  gray,  and  didn't  see  her 
till  what  I  had  taken  for  a  weather-worn  tree  stump  van- 
ished with  a  loud,  angry  grunt  from  before  me,  and  the 
chase  was  all  on  again.     The  band  numbered  nine,  and, 
strangely  enough,  we  never  were  sure  that  we  saw  a  big  lion 
in  it.     They  never  let  us  come  among  them  as  did  the  other 
band  the  day  before.  But  persistently  they  kept  from  one  hun- 
dred to  three  hundred  yards  in  front.     When  we  first  drew 
up  to  the  spot  where  the  two  had  been  hit,  we  might,  of 
course,  have  walked  in  among  them  then,  but  grass  and 
thick  bushes  made  it  impossible.     To  do  so  would  have 
led  to  our  instantly  being  charged,  by  how  many  I  don't 
know  (but  several  were  growling  very  close),  and  in  such 
cover  you  could  not  see  a  crouching  lion  at  gun-barrel's 
length.     After  that  the  band  would  not  let  us  near  till 
we   came   to   some   heavily  wooded   cover.     On   its   edge 
they  would  make  another  stand  and  growl  again.     Our 
waiting  tactics  were  then  repeated,  and  when  the  grunting 
isounded  farther  on,  we  moved  in  on  the  track.     I  should 
here  say  that  the  noise  the  lions  made  when  they  were,  as 
it  were,  standing  us  off,  was  a  different,  quite  different, 
sound  from  that  they  made  among  themselves  as  they  trotted 
away  together.     This  last,  though  not  like  their  common 
night-call,  could  be  heard  at  some  distance,  while  the  low 
snarl  they  gave  when  crouching  in  the  grass,  though  hot  at 
all  a  loud  noise,  was  always  to  me  a  horrid,  blood-curdling 
sort  of  thing,  but  did  not  seem  to  carry  any  distance.    Every 
ant  hill  we  came  to,  rising  out  of  the  long  grass,  every  hard 
ridge  we  had  to  cross,  I  hoped  would  give  me  a  chance 
but  the  afternoon  wore  on,  and  try  as  we  might  there  seemed 
no  way  of  coming  up  to  them.     Once  we  counted  the  lot, 


MY  FIRST  LION  99 

nine,  and  could  see  the  two  wounded  ones  lagging  behind. 
But  these  kept  after  the  others,  and  though  the  blood  signs 
never  ceased,  they  kept  their  strength. 

Just  as  I  was  thinking  of  giving  it  up,  for  my  troublesome 
knee  was  hanging  out  signs  of  distress,  and  I  had  been 
going  as  hard  as  I  could,  my  nerves  pretty  well  strung  up, 
for  more  than  four  hours  since  I  had  wounded  the  two, 
we  came  to  a  heavy  bit  of  cover  that  bordered  a  small 
stream  running  between  steep  rocky  banks,  and  strangely 
enough,  before  entering  this  stronghold  (where  they  would 
have  been  quite  safe  from  me),  the  whole  band  stopped  and 
looked  back.  The  halt  was  so  very  brief  that  I  had  no  time 
even  to  take  a  hasty  shot.  Before  I  could  struggle  out  of  the 
long  grass  I  was  in,  and  find  a  place  from  which  I  could 
see  to  shoot,  they  were  gone,  or  rather  eight  lions  had  passed 
into  the  shade.  Brownie  had  counted  them.  They  were 
too  far  off  for  me  to  do  so.  What  of  the  two  wounded  ? 
He  said  they  had  not  come  in  sight  yet.  As  I  waited  one 
of  them  came  slowly  out  of  the  grass  and  stood,  looking  very 
tired,  just  for  an  instant.  I  fortunately  shot  it  dead.  The 
big  lioness,  as  we  saw  by  following  her  spoor,  crawled 
cunningly  down  a  little  depression  into  the  dark  thicket  by 
the  stream,  and  so  was  lost  to  us.  It  seems  poor  sort  of 
work,  when  you  try  to  tell  accurately  what  happened,  to 
follow  ten  lions  from  early  morning  to  late  afternoon,  and 
only  get  one.  All  I  can  say  is  that,  taking  it  all  and  all, 
I  had  the  best  hunting  day  I  ever  had  in  my  life.  I  might 
have  fired  almost  at  random  on  lions  moving  in  concealing 
grass,  as  I  might  even  more  frequently  have  done  during  the 
hour  or  so  on  the  day  before  when  the  band  was  scattered 
all  round  me,  and  when  at  times  several  were  within  a  few 
yards,  but,  both  for  the  sake  of  the  lions  and  for  our  own, 
I  am  sure,  to  do  so  would  have  been  a  grave  mistake. 
I  have  no  conscience  about  killing  lions.  They  are  magni- 
ficent cats,  but  dangerous  and  cruel  above  all  others 


ioo  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

excepting  the  leopard.  As  game  decreases  they  will  become 
in  East  Africa,  indeed,  they  are  already  becoming,  more 
destructive  to  domestic  beasts  and  to  man;  for  the  lion 
that  jumps  a  boma  to  stampede  a  herd  is  on  the  road  to  be 
a  manslayer;  but  even  lions  should  not  be  recklessly  wounded. 
Then,  for  our  own  sake  I  never  fired  until  I  knew  I  had  a 
fair  chance  to  kill.  My  own  unaccountably  bad  shot,  at 
only  fourteen  yards  distance,  at  a  lion  lying  down,  had 
taught  me  how  easy  it  was,  even  when  I  shot  steadily,  to 
overshoot  one  of  these  dangerous  beasts  in  the  grass.  If  that 
lion  had  come  at  me  instead  of  turning  away,  I  should  have 
had  to  kill  him  at  a  few  feet  distance,  or,  failing  that,  go 
down,  and  no  living  man  can  be  sure  of  killing  a  charging 
lion  dead,  at  a  few  feet  distance. 

Our  return  to  camp,  if  it  was  delayed,  was  triumphant. 
Three  lions  killed  and  twenty-seven  seen  in  five  consecutive 
days,  made  up  for  the  long  spell  of  bad  luck  that  went  before. 
The  curious  thing  was,  however,  that  though  I  hunted 
much  harder  than  J.  J.  W.,  even  after  this  his  fortune  in 
sighting  lions  remained  remarkable.  He  saw  them  again 
many  times  before  I  had  another  chance  to  see,  much  less 
to  kill,  one. 

I  fear  it  may  seem  like  boastfulness  or  exaggeration  when  I 
write  as  confidently  as  I  have  done  about  the  size  and  qual- 
ity of  the  lions  to  be  met  with  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Sergoit  Rock  and  on  the  Nzoia  Plateau.  I  can  only  assure 
those  who  read  my  story  that  there  are  good  and  sound 
reasons  for  my  statement.  The  bulk  of  a  lion  depends 
on  the  regularity  and  abundance  of  his  food.  The  mane  of 
a  lion  depends,  in  my  humble  judgment,  on  three  things; 
first,  on  the  cold  weather,  that  is  favourable  to  long  hair; 
second,  on  the  nature  of  the  covert  in  which  he  hunts  — 
if  this  is  open  and  free  from  thorns  the  mane  will  probably 
be  abundant;  and  third,  on  an  abundance  of  food.  If, 
on  the  other  hand,  there  is  much  cactus  scrub  and  thorn, 


MY  FIRST  LION  101 

it  will  be  shorter  and  more  torn.  But  no  lions  foraging 
for  themselves  in  any  country  grow  finer  or  indeed  as  fine 
manes,  as  do  the  old  fellows  who  grow  fat  and  are  well 
looked  after  in  the  cold  air  of  the  London  Zoological  Gar- 
dens. Black-maned  lions  are  quite  common  up  here 
on  this  high  and  cold  region,  and  are  extremely  rare  any- 
where else  in  the  Protectorate.  A  few  are  shot  in  the  Mau 
"highlands"  clothed  like  these.  But  the  Mau  valleys  are 
settled,  and  lions  are  already  hunted  down.  In  Somali- 
land  lions  are  often  half-starved  and  never  seem  to  attain 
the  size  they  commonly  reach  here.  There,  too,  they  hunt 
in  extremely  thorny  cover,  and  as  a  consequence  are  almost 
without  mane.  I  should  say,  speaking  from  memory  only, 
the  measurements  of  Somali  lions  and  lionesses  are  almost 
a  foot  shorter.*  The  time  of  year  in  which  the  lionesses 
withdraw  from  the  male  is  of  importance  to  the  hunter. 
During  May,  June,  and  July  the  sexes  seem  to  keep  com- 
pany. It  was  in  June  and  July  I  came  on  three  bands  of 
lions,  nine,  ten,  and  eight  respectively,  in  five  days,  hunting. 
Lions  and  lionesses  were  all  running  together.  In  two 
cases  I,  as  I  know  now,  recklessly  followed  them  up,  after 
wounding  one  one  day,  and  two  another,  for  hours  and 
hours,  mile  after  mile,  on  foot,  in  the  long  grass,  pressing 
on  to  finish  the  animals  I  had  wounded.  Had  I  been  fol- 
lowing one  or  two  lionesses  with  cubs  instead  of  large, 
mixed  bands,  I  must  have  been  charged  and  charged  home. 
As  it  was,  though,  they  growled  a  good  deal  just  ahead  of 
me,  and  on  either  side,  and  sometimes  came  within  a  few 
yards,  I  was  never  charged.  When  lionesses  are  alone  they 
are  exceedingly  dangerous.  Indeed,  a  lioness  is,  I  think 
I  am  safe  in  saying,  100  per  cent,  more  dangerous  than 
a  lion.  She  has  a  way  of  crouching  so  flat  on  the  yellow 
ground  that  even  in  grass  no  more  than  two  feet  high  it  is 
hard  to  see  her.  Such  a  lioness  caused  the  first  accident 

*  Since  returning  to  Europe  I  have  verified  this  statement. 


IO2 

that  I  had  personal  knowledge  of.  When  hunting  near 
the  Athi  River,  on  my  first  visit  to  the  country,  Mr.  L.  and 
Mr.  G.,  who  is  now  one  of  the  game  rangers,  had  been  hunt- 
ing lion  on  one  side  of  a  mountain  which  rises  from  the 
plain  thirty  miles  from  Nairobi,  and  which  every  visitor  to 
the  country  knows  well  —  Donyea  Sabuk.  I  had  been  doing 
all  I  could  on  the  other  side  to  find  one  to  hunt.  They 
killed  three  in  ten  days.  During  three  weeks'  hard  work 
I  never  saw  one.  Such  is  luck  in  lion  hunting.  Well, 
one  day  the  two  men  saw  a  lioness,  and  rode  her  hard. 
They  lost  her  in  some  shortish  grass,  and  incautiously 
came  nearer  than  they  should  have  done  to  look  for  her. 
In  an  instant  she  was  on  them,  carrying  Mr.  G.  from  his 
pony,  and  biting  him  through  and  through  the  thigh.  Then, 
like  a  flash,  turning  on  Mr.  L.,  whom  she  dashed  down  with 
a  claw  wound  across  the  face  which  destroyed  one  eye  and 
cut  through  the  nose.  As  she  stood  on  unfortunate  L., 
mauling  his  shoulder,  G.  crawled  up,  wounded  as  he  was, 
and  blew  her  brains  out.  Mr.  L.  died  a  few  days 
afterward. 

Lions  will  sometimes,  though  very  rarely,  charge  from 
a  distance.  When  they  do,  they  are  apt  to  come  fast.  A 
friend  of  mine,  a  first-rate  hunter,  with  another  man  who 
had  neither  much  nerve  nor  experience,  came  on  two  lionesses 
lying  on  a  bare  hillside  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
away.  My  friend  took  a  steady  shot  at  one  of  them,  and  dis- 
abled it  at  once.  His  man  missed  the  second.  This  second, 
without  a  moment's  hesitation,  came  at  them  fast.  It  was  evi- 
dent at  a  glance  that  the  lioness  meant  business;  so ran 

quickly  to  an  ant  hill,  a  few  yards  to  one  side,  crying  out  to 
the  other  as  he  did  so,  "Don't  fire;  let  her  come."  But 
that  onward  rush  was  more  than  untried  nerves  could  stand, 
and  while  she  was  still  more  than  one  hundred  yards  away, 
fire  was  opened  on  her  first  by  -  -  and  then  by  his 
frightened  and  demoralized  Somali  gunbearer. 


MY  FIRST  LION  103 

Maddened,  but  not  even  scratched  by  the  bullets,  the 
lioness  covered  the  remaining  distance  at  an  awful  pace. 
Ten  yards  off,  not  another  inch,  when  a  shot  from  the  man 
seated  on  the  antheap,  full  between  the  eyes,  averted  a 
tragedy.  It  is  madness  to  shoot  at  a  really  charging  lion, 
at  any  such  distance  as  that  at  which  this  man  and  his  gun- 
bearer  shot;  for  be  it  always  remembered,  shooting  and 
missing  demoralizes  all  hands.  Nineteen  times  out  of  twenty, 
however,  a  lion  comes  slowly  when  he  charges.  As  you 
watch  him  at  a  distance,  it  seems  very  slowly  at  first.  The 
man  in  his  front  may  not  be  able  so  accurately  to  gauge 
his  pace.  Gradually  he  quickens,  and  crouching  may 
make  the  last  few  yards  very  fast  indeed.  He  sometimes 
stands  for  a  moment  before  finally  closing.  The  Masai 
who  still  spear  many  lions,  in  the  old  days  killed  many  more 
than  they  do  now.  They  told  me  positively  that  when 
their  warriors  were  charged  by  a  lion  they  always  stood 
stock  still.  To  move  meant  death,  to  stand  quite  immov- 
able meant  that  before  closing,  the  lion,  if  unwounded 
would  stand,  too.  Then  came  the  spearman's  one  chance. 
The  stories  you  hear  of  lions  charging  when  unwounded, 
and  from  a  distance,  are  generally  like  the  same  sort  of  story 
told  about  rhino  or  elephant,  gross  exaggerations.  Con- 
fused by  the  shooting,  the  beast  rushes  away  and  may  come 
your  way;  or  again,  he  will  run  up  to  have  a  nearer  look. 
A  missionary  I  knew  was  in  this  way  "charged,"  as  many 
would  call  it,  by  three  lions,  a  male  and  two  females.  He 
had  two  cartridges  only,  and  an  unreliable  .303  carbine. 
The  lion  ran  up  to  within  twelve  yards,  he  estimated  it, 
and  on  his  standing  firm,  growled,  and  ran  back  to  the 
lionesses.  Then  a  lioness  would  go  through  the  same 
most  trying  performance.  He  standing  still,  she,  too, 
retired.  This  happened  no  less  than  four  times.  Last 
the  lion  came  so  close  that  the  missionary,  feeling  that  this 
time  he  was  coming  in,  fired  and  shot  away  one  of  his  large 


io4  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

front  teeth.  The  shock  knocked  him  down.  He  got  up 
slowly,  and  growling  his  displeasure  at  such  treatment, 
they  all  three  went  off  slowly  together.  The  good  man 
thought  himself  very  fortunate,  as  he  was,  and  took  another 
road.  A  few  days  later  the  Kikuyu  killed  the  lion  and 
brought  in  the  skull.  Strange  to  say,  though  the  great 
tooth  was  shattered,  the  jawbone  was  not  broken. 


CHAPTER  V 

HUNTING  IN  AFRICA 

I  THINK  I  can  truthfully  say  I  have  always  enjoyed 
hunting  apart  from  mere  killing  —  the  distinction  is 
Important.  I  learned  to  enjoy  and  value  it  for  the  knowl- 
edge it  gave  me  of  a  thousand  useful  and  beautiful  things, 
and  for  the  opportunties  it  afforded  of  studying  them. 

I  was  an  overgrown,  lanky  boy  of  thirteen  when  my 
father  who  was  himself  a  good  shot  and  an  accomplished 
.horseman,  gave  me  my  first  gun.  It  was  a  14-bore  double- 
barrel  shot  gun.  I  remember  it  cost  £10,  a  large  sum  for 
him  in  those  days. 

We  lived  in  Ireland,  and  in  Ireland  the  grammar 
-schools  keep  early  hours.  I  had  to  be  at  school  at  seven 
in  the  morning,  but  that  gun  drew  me  from  my  bed  at  four; 
.and  two  and  a  half  precious  hours  I  had  all  to  myself 
while  the  day  was  young.  I  was  only  allowed  to  kill  for  food, 
and  rabbits  brought  me  sixpence  each,  wild  pigeon,  three- 
pence. So  I  paid  for  my  ammunition  at  the  same  time  that 
I  increased  my  chest  measurement.  Every  stream,  every 
bog,  every  mountain,  within  a  radius  of  ten  miles  (Irish) 
I  got  to  know,  and  I  learned  to  love  dearly  the  open  air. 
-Since  then  I  have  hunted  in  many  places,  Scotland,  Austria, 
Sardinia  (one  of  the  best  places,  by  the  way,  in  the  world 
to  hunt  in,  and  no  one  goes  there),  in  almost  all  parts 
•of  the  Canadian  Rockies,  and  in  our  own  splendid  Alpine 
land,  from  California  to  the  Canadian  line.  On  the  great 
Western  plains  I  spent  many  months  as  far  back  as  1868, 
when  no  white  man  came,  and  the  whole  country  swarmed 
with  game.  I  have  hunted  in  the  forests  and  on  the  barrens 

105 


io6  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

of  Nova  Scotia,  New  Brunswick,  and  Quebec.  So  I  have 
had  some  experience  in  hunting.  But  African  hunting  is 
a  thing  apart.  It  differs  from  all  other  forms  of  sport. 
You  may,  with  good  reason,  believe  yourself  capable  of 
holding  your  own  in  the  Rockies  or  the  Alps,  and  yet  you 
may  find  yourself  unsuccessful  or  only  moderately  successful 
here.  My  first  trip  to  the  country  was  unsatisfactory  to 
me.  Though  I  was  a  fair  shot,  and  capable  of  standing 
pretty  well  the  fatigue  of  a  long  day  in  the  sun,  I  didn't 
get  what  I  hoped  to  get.  I  was  confused  with  the  great 
variety  of  game,  and  couldn't  tell  a  good  head  from  a  poor 
one.  I  did  not  understand  the  make-up  of  a  sefari,  and 
had  no  idea  at  all  of  how  much  one's  comfort  depends  on 
getting  together  before  leaving  the  starting  place  such 
men  as  shall  make  the  expedition  successful.  I  could 
see  my  trophies  well  attended  to  while  in  America,  but 
African  trophies  and  African  climate  are  so  utterly  differ- 
ent that  experience  gained  in  other  lands  is  here  of  slight 
value.  I  had  not  one  single  man  that  could  hunt,  or  knew 
anything  about  the  habits  of  the  game.  One  of  my  gun- 
boys'  feet  gave  out,  owing  to  his  insisting  on  a  foolish 
habit  they  have  of  wearing  a  wretched  sham  ammunition 
boot,  served  out  to  sefaris  at  Nairobi,  which,  by  the  way, 
an  immutable  custom  obliges  you  to  give  to  your  tentboys 
and  gunbearers.  The  other  was  an  utter  coward.  I 
tried,  too,  to  march  all  day,  and  hunt  in  the  afternoon 
and  evening,  a  great  mistake  always.  And  last,  but  not 
least,  I  knew  really  nothing  of  the  country. 

These  ignorances  I  have  enumerated  are,  as  anyone 
can  see,  sufficiently  serious,  but  I  am  sure  that  very  few 
ever  coming  for  the  first  time  to  Africa,  know  even  as 
much  about  the  country  of  their  hope,  as  I  did. 

How  then,  you  may  say,  do  any  first  trips  succeed  even 
measurably  ? 

In  the  first  place,  a  great  majority  do  not  succeed. 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  107 

I  remember  a  friend  of  mine,  who  had  spent  three  months 
in  Rhodesia,  showing  me  the  result  of  his  trip  with  pride. 
I  was  ignorant  then  of  African  game,  and  so  was  duly 
impressed.  I  know,  now,  there  was  scarcely  one  head  in 
the  lot  worth  keeping. 

He,  however,  only  brought  back  what  he  had  shot 
himself,  for  he  was  a  good  sportsman;  but  the  truth  is, 
very  many  of  the  bags  reported  are  not  made  by  the  men 
returning  them.  The  professional  hunter  does  much  of 
the  shooting,  and  not  seldom  skins,  tusks,  and  horns,  are 
bought.  It  is  not  hard  to  forget  (at  least,  some  seem  to 
find  it  easy)  what  you  yourself  have  or  have  not  shot. 

But  is  that  sort  of  thing  sport  ?  I  am  not  speaking 
from  haphazard  hearsay,  but  from  things  that  I  know. 

I  have  often  seen  a  would-be  salmon  fisher  on  our  own 
rivers,  sit  reading  a  novel  hour  after  hour,  day  after  day, 
in  his  canoe,  while  his  expert  Indian  threw  a  good  fly 
over  his  shoulder.  When  the  fish  was  hooked  then  the 
sportsman  played  it,  and  landed  or  lost  it  as  the  case  might 
be.  It  takes  more  than  money  to  make  a  sportsman. 
Enough  said  perhaps  on  an  unpleasant  subject. 

In  the  second  place,  game  is  not  at  all  as  plentiful  as  it 
was  even  in  Africa.  You  cannot  expect  to  stroll  out  of 
camp  about  eight  o'clock,  after  a  late  and  heavy  breakfast 
and  run  across  what  you  came  out  to  get.  A  few  years 
ago  the  Athi  Plains  were  almost  a  sure  find  for  lions.  I 
do  not  believe  that  to-day  one  sefari  in  five  gets  a  lion  at 
all  on  them.  There  were  a  dozen  places  where  with  reason- 
able industry  you  at  least  had  a  chance  to  get  a  fifty  pound 
elephant  tusk.  Now  you  may  visit  them  one  after  the  other 
and  never  see  a  reasonable  tusker.  It  is  the  same  story 
with  rhino.  Five  years  ago  anyone  could  within  a  radius 
of  thirty  miles  of  Nairobi,  make  sure  of  securing  his  two 
heads,  with  horns  measuring  over  twenty  inches.  Now 
rhino  scarcely  exists  in  that  vicinity  at  all,  and  you  may 


io8  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

hunt  perseveringly  for  months  all  over  the  country,  see 
scores  of  rhino,  and  yet  never  come  across  a  horn  over  sixteen 
inches.  In  short,  Mr.  Ward's  measurements  are  a  delusion, 
an  alluring  but  impossible  dream,  so  far  as  East  Africa  is 
concerned.  I  fancy  the  same  thing  holds  good  for  the  whole 
country. 

But  though  the  great  trophies  are  gone  or  nearly  so, 
if  a  man  takes  the  trouble  to  study  the  game  of  the  country, 
and  rigorously  refrains  from  blazing  at  the  first  thing  he 
can  see,  if  he  rises  early  in  the  morning,  and  does  not 
mind  an  occasional  crawl  in  the  sun,  he  can  still  secure 
beautiful  trophies,  and,  what  is  more,  can  do  so  without 
indiscriminate  slaughter,  and  without  measurably  dimin- 
ishing what  remains  of  this  wonderful  fauna;  for  an  old 
buck  killed,  scarcely  ever  hurts  the  herd,  and  it  carries 
almost  always  the  best  head. 

Nor  can  game  be  approached  any  longer  in  the  hap- 
hazard fashion  of  yore.  Now  and  then,  of  course,  you 
stumble  by  good  fortune  on  a  desirable  beast,  but  consistent 
stalking  is  usually  necessary  to  secure  anything  worth  the 
having.  The  sportsman,  too,  will  find  that  he  must  take 
many  shots,  at  a  much  farther  distance,  than  he  would  be 
obliged  to  do  in  America,  Scotland,  or  Europe. 

The  common  animals  such  at  kongoni,  zebra,  Tommy, 
and  rhino,  usually  permit  a  close  shot.  Waterbuck  and 
oryx  will  now  and  then  let  you  near.  On  some  days 
you  can  quickly  walk  up  to  Grant,  and  pick  your  head 
from  a  herd  at  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards,  but  you  will 
not  get  such  chances  every  day.  Far  the  larger  number  of 
shots  made  are  over  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards,  and 
often  over  two  hundred,  sometimes  over  three  hundred, 
which  is  a  long  shot.  It  follows,  then,  that  old-fashioned 
rifles  (and  the  fashion  in  rifles  changes  almost  as  rapidly 
as  that  of  our  clothes),  form  a  poor  battery.  Black  powder 
guns  of  all  sorts  are,  of  course,  to  be  left  at  home;  .500 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA 


109- 


and  .600  bore  expresses  are  cumbersome  and  very  unsat- 
isfactory weapons.  A  .450  double  Cordite  express  will 
kill  anything  in  the  country,  but  you  will  be  wise  to  use 
constantly  a  much  lighter  gun,  and  one  with  ammunition 
easier  to  carry.  The  rifle  question  needs  a  page  or  two  to 
itself. 

One  of  the  most  important  matters,  as  I  have  found  it,, 
and  one  never  insisted  on  in  any  books,  seldom  mentioned 
by  any  hunter,  is  to  so  regulate  the  marching  of  your 
sefari,  when  you  are  changing  ground,  that  there  will  be 
time  for  a  quiet  inspection  of  the  country,  the  evening  you 
make  camp. 

A  sefari  is  at  best  a  noisy  affair.  Forty  to  a  hundred  men 
will  make  a  noise  when  they  reach  their  resting-place. 
Tent-pitching,  wood-gathering,  very  often  from  a  distance 
of  a  mile  or  more,  cooking  and  water-hunting  and  carrying, 
all  mean  noise.  Game  may  be  found  that  same  evening 
of  arrival,  within  half  a  mile  or  more  of  your  tent,  which 
next  morning  you  may  seek  in  vain  at  five  miles  distance. 
The  rule  is  a  good  one,  start  at  daybreak,  and  camp  before 
noon.  The  early  hours  are  the  coolest,  six  hours  of  hard,, 
stony  or  thorny  ground  with  sixty  pounds,  often  more,  to 
carry,  is  all  a  humane  man  should  ask  of  his  porters. 
To  rush  from  place  to  place  does  no  good,  tires  your  sefari 
out,  and  if  there  are  many  other  hunting  parties  in  the 
country,  is  apt  to  make  you  deservedly  disliked. 

Never  under  any  circumstances  give  up  an  animal  you 
have  wounded,  unless  night  is  falling,  or  you  are  utterly 
done  and  can  go  no  farther.  In  that  case  give  your  rifle 
to  your  head  gunboy  and  promise  him  "bakshish"  if 
he  brings  in  head  and  meat. 

Perhaps  even  mentioning  such  a  matter  seems  useless 
to  many,  I  wish  it  were  so.  But  to  see,  as  I  have  often 
seen,  poor  wounded  zebra,  kongoni,  or  many  another, 
limping  painfully  after  the  herd,  with  month-old  wounds 


no  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

is  a  sight  that  should  give  pause  to  the  careless  shot.  No 
man  has  a  right  to  kill  things  carelessly,  or  to  waste  life; 
least  of  all  to  inflict  pain,  and  continuous  pain,  just  because 
he  is  lazy.  If  he  is  a  good  shot,  nine  times  out  of  ten  his 
chosen  beast  dies  with  far  less  suffering,  than  if  it  died 
by  disease,  driven  forth  from  the  herd,  or  by  the  lion's 
grip.  It  moves  but  a  few  paces  from  the  place  it  received 
its  death  shot.  If  he  is  a  poor  shot,  he  will  only  fire  at 
game  within  his  killing  distance,  which  distance  is  soon 
learned  by  all.  But  no  man,  surely,  should  leave  the  thing 
he  has  chosen  to  kill,  to  slowly  die.  The  people  of  the 
country  are  often  peculiarly  careless  in  this  respect.  Game 
has  been  and  is  so  plentiful,  "Let  it  go,  there  are 
many  more." 

The  natives  and  Somali  have  no  feeling  whatever 
about  inflicting  pain.  It  never  occurs,  seemingly,  even  to 
the  most  intelligent  of  them,  that  an  animal  should  be 
considered  at  all.  You  must  act  for  your  servants,  and 
insist  that  they  obey  your  orders,  punish  any  breach  of 
them  immediately.  So  far  as  they  are  concerned  nothing 
more  can  be  done. 

And  this  leads  me  to  say  something  of  "tracking." 
Every  sefari  should  number  among  its  porters  men  who 
can  track,  who  know  at  a  glance  the  meaning  of  a  foot- 
mark that  may  baffle  you  or  escape  you  altogether.  Some 
experienced  hunters  advise  the  engaging  of  N'dorobo 
trackers  and  say  there  are  none  so  good.  I  have  found 
the  Wakamba  to  be  about  the  best  trackers  in  the  country. 
The  Wakamba  are  a  hunting  tribe  and  all  the  little  but 
important  matters,  such  as  skinning,  cleaning  heads, 
making  kobokos,  they  are  adepts  at. 

Your  gunboy  is,  of  course,  a  good  tracker.  All  his  "  chits  " 
say  so.  Alas,  chits  are  usually  as  reliable  as  cooks*  refer- 
ences at  home.  Men  who  continually  do  nothing  but  abuse 
their  gunbearers  while  they  employ  them,  in  some  mis- 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  in 

guided  fit  of  compunction,  I  must  suppose,  salve  their 
consciences,  at  the  same  time  that  they  inflict  a  real  wrong 
on  the  man  himself  and  on  his  future  employer,  by  giving 
him,  shall  I  call  it,  an  "inaccurate"  chit. 

Hast  thou  found  a  gunbearer  who  is  staunch  and  a 
tracker,  raise  his  wages,  and  hold  on  to  him  while  you  are 
in  the  country. 

I  believe  Indian  Shakeris  are  often  wonderful  trackers. 
I  have  met  and  employed  one  master  of  the  craft,  in  Nova 
Scotia.  I  have  heard  of  another.  I  name  them,  for  one 
of  my  objects  in  publishing  these  travel  and  hunting  notes 
of  mine,  is,  not  merely  to  tantalize  a  reader  by  telling 
him  what  I  have  discovered  after  long  search  and 
many  failures,  but,  if  it  is  possible,  to  help  him  to. 
succeed  where  I  failed.  If  you  have  got  a  good  thing, 
hand  it  on,  share  it  as  far  as  you  can,  your  own  share  will 
never  be  denied  you.  But  I  must  not  fall  into  sermon- 
izing. The  two,  the  only  two  whom  I  have  ever  met, 
who  were  the  sort  of  trackers  you  read  of  in  novels 
(written  by  men  themselves  who  never  followed  a  tracker 
probably),  are  the  brothers  Malay  of  Moser  River,  Halifax 
County,  Nova  Scotia. 

Fortunate  indeed  is  the  sportsman  who  secures  either 
of  these  men  for  a  moose  hunt.  For  three  long  September 
days  I  have  seen  Will  Malay  follow  one  bull  moose,  over 
eighty  miles  of  rocky  bog,  fallen  timber,  alder  swamp, 
and  fern-clothed  lands,  pick  out  that  one  hoof  mark, 
when  again  and  again  it  merged,  and  to  any  other  eye 
was  hopelessly  lost,  in  not  less  than  fifty  other  tracks,  and 
three  times  bringing  up  his  man  to  within  forty  yards  of 
the  watchful  beast,  hidden  in  darkest,  noisiest,  black 
spruce  swamp,  till  at  least  that  head  was  ours.  Go  to 
Nova  Scotia,  it  is  well  worth  the  trip  to  see  such  work. 

Your  Wakambas  cannot  approach  your  Irish-Scotch 
Nova  Scotian.  But  encourage  them,  make  them  see  you 


112 

expect  good  work  from  them,  make  them  look  out  their 
best  man  for  you,  keep  them  to  it  when  they  think  they 
are  beaten,  and  you  will  have  always  an  interesting  and 
sometimes,  as  you  deserve,  a  successful  time. 

Even  if  your  gunboy  can  track,  as  mine  can,  yo'u  need 
a  man  at  your  hand  whose  eyes  are  not  on  the  ground  but 
above  it,  and  in  the  surrounding  grass  or  bush.  See  a  lot 
of  men  unaccustomed  to  African  hunting,  and  probably 
they  all  of  them  will  have  their  eyes  on  the  ground  at  the 
same  time.  The  first  thing  you  know  there  is  a  crash  or 
a  growl  and  the  beast  is  away.  Insist,  and  keep  on  insisting, 
that  the  man  who  carries  your  rifle,  look  not  on  the  ground, 
but  ahead  of  him  and  around. 

Rhino,  in  spite  of  their  great  weight,  are  difficult  to 
track  once  they  are  travelling  on  the  inconceivably  hard, 
sunbaked  ground.  They  seem  most  aimless  of  all  beasts, 
there  is  no  purpose  in  their  wanderings.  They  will  move 
quite  rapidly,  too,  in  all  directions.  No  one  can  predict 
safely  their  course. 

Lions,  generally  move  in  a  large  curve  or  half-circle. 
It  pays,  therefore,  to  follow  them  and  follow  them  for  hours. 
One  track  is  apt  to  lead  you  at  last  to  quite  a  family  con- 
clave. 

Impala,  spring  off  on  a  seemingly  steady  course,  but 
never  keep  it.  No  wounded  beast  is  more  artful  than  this 
beautiful  antelope. 

Bush  buck,  crouch  and  hide,  like  a  fox.  Water  buck, 
will  cunningly  find  a  patch  of  thorn,  so  exactly  correspond- 
ing with  their  own  coats,  that  nothing  but  the  closest  hunting 
will  find  the  wounded  or  dead  game. 

Oryx,  generally  go  pretty  straight,  and  the  sharp  hoof 
beneath  the  heavy  body,  make  them  perhaps  easiest  of  all 
to  follow. 

Always  see  your  head  skins,  if  you  want  them,  taken 
off  yourself.  See  them  packed  with  grass  or  green  twigs, 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA 

to  prevent  the  bloody  edges  soiling  the  skin.     All  blood 
harbours  flies,  and  flies  too  often  blow  and  ruin  a  good 

o 

skin  or  pelt. 

See  to  it  yourself,  too,  that  all  the  meat  is  brought  to 
camp.  You  are  not  legally  obliged  to  give  your  porters 
meat.  Potio  is  supposed  to  be  ample  provision  for  them. 
But  you  will  find  that  most  of  the  men  require  meat  more 
than  occasionally.  The  Wanyamwazi,  who  are  likely 
to  be  the  mainstay  of  your  sefari,  are  good  marchers, 
and  if  they  like  you,  and  have  arrived  at  the  conclusion 
that  you  mean  to  act  fairly  by  them,  will,  in  their  turn, 
act  fairly  by  you.  I  have  always  been  open  and  above 
board  with  them.  Sometimes  for  many  days  together 
I  have  had  to  put  them  on  half  rations  of  potio,  sometimes 
to  give  them  beans,  the  despised  Kikuyu's  diet,  instead 
of  meal  or  rice.  But  when  I  can  get  meat  they  know 
they  will  have  it,  and  so  they  are  willing  to  strain  a  point 
to  please  me.  I  have  told  them  I  badly  wanted  to  take  in 
such  and  such  heavy  trophies,  for  instance,  If  these  were 
to  be  carried  many  of  the  loads  would  be  nearer  eighty 
than  sixty  pounds.  They  have  taken  them  up  cheerfully,. 
and  in  one  instance  I  well  remember  made  fifteen  miles 
without  water,  on  a  very  hot  day  indeed. 

So,  as  I  say,  see  all  your  meat  is  brought  in  and  neither 
on  the  veldt,  nor  yet  in  camp,  wasted.  But  here  you  may 
find  an  unexpected  difficulty.  Half  or  more  of  your  sefari 
are  professed  Mohammedans  and  these  do  not  eat  meat 
that  has  not  been  "hallaled."  i.  e.,  throat  cut  before  the 
animal  is  dead.  If  the  porters  who  happen  to  accompany 
you  on  a  certain  day,  are  Mohammedans,  and  you  want  to 
save  a  head  skin,  of  course,  refuse  to  have  the  throat  cut, 
or,  if  the  shot  has  killed  the  animal  instantly,  and  so  there 
is  no  possible  excuse  for  throat  cutting,  they  will  need  a 
sharp  eye  on  them,  if  the  unclean  meat  is  to  be  carried 
in.  It  is  a  good  plan  judiciously  to  keep  away  from  any 


ii4  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

fallen  beast  you  kill  for  meat.  Give  orders  as  soon  as 
you  see  it  down,  that  it  be  "hallaled,"  and  some  good 
Mohammedan  will  not  hesitate  to  cut  its  throat  even  though 
the  poor  thing  has  been  dead  as  a  doornail  for  several 
minutes.  In  any  case  insist  that  all  meat  killed  be  brought 
in,  and  if,  as  is  rare,  there  is  more  than  the  men  can  eat, 
let  the  headman  see  that  it  is  dried.  The  natives  do  this 
very  well,  and  are  much  less  likely  to  make  themselves  ill 
on  dried,  than  on  fresh  game. 

Nothing  is  more  interesting  than  hunting  with  a  camera. 
I  said  before  that  a  close  approach  to  game  is  now  very 
difficult.  The  large  herds,  I  have  never  been  able  to  get 
near.  Of  course,  you  cannot  crawl  through  wet  grass 
with  a  kodak.  Still,  occasionally  perseverance  is  rewarded, 
and  at  least  you  get  interesting  views  of  the  animal  world. 
Scores  of  times  I  have  managed  to  reach  fifty  or  sixty 
yards,  but  that  is  too  long  a  shot  for  anything  but  a 
"telephoto.  (A  telephoto  that  would  not  shake  in  the 
breeze  as  all  I  have  seen  do,  should  certainly  give  excellent 
results.) 

Every  man  has  his  own  ideas  about  the  way  he  wishes 
his  rifle  carried,  but  there  are  a  few  points  as  to  which  I 
fancy  all  sportsmen  who  have  shot  much  in  Africa  are 
agreed.  One  is  to  have  the  gun,  you  are  most  accustomed 
to,  so  near  you  that  you  can  use  it  instantly.  Often  the 
chance  of  the  trip  will  come,  when  least  expected,  not  when 
you  are  equipped  for  a  day's  hunting,  maybe,  but  when 
you  are  moving  slowly  along,  in  front  of  a  noisy  sefari. 
There  stands  a  lion,  waiting  to  be  shot!  Or,  the  one  head 
in  a  thousand,  calmly  gazes  at  you,  over  a  bush.  To 
pause  then,  to  drag  at  a  gun  cover,  to  fumble  for  cartridges, 
to  give  up  one  gun,  in  order  to  grasp  at  another,  is  most 
surely  to  be  undone. 

I  have  known  a  man  who  was  dying  to  shoot  a  lion, 
come  suddenly  on  one  not  fifty  yards  away  in  a  little  open 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  115 

glade.  The  obliging  beast  waited  to  let  him  get  off  his 
riding  animal,  but  when  he  stopped  to  take  out  "the 
solids"  (bullets  covered  with  nickel  used  usually  for  rhino, 
elephant,  and  wrongly  for  buffalo)  and  substitute  "soft- 
nose"  (the  ordinary  expanding  bullet  for  soft-skinned 
game)  he  lost  an  easy  lion,  and  it  served  him  right. 

If  you  can  carry  your  own  gun  do  so.  No  matter  how 
quick  your  gunbearer  is  or  how  well  trained,  and  there 
is  much  in  training  him,  no  matter  how  steady,  no  matter 
how  well  he  knows  you  or  obeys  your  orders,  appreciable 
time  is  lost  and  many  a  chance  thrown  away  in  taking 
your  rifle  from  his  hands.  If  you  have  a  professional 
hunter,  do  not  let  him  march  in  front,  as  they  all  like  to  do. 
When  there  is  no  trail,  or  the  country  is  unusually  difficult 
it  may  be  necessary.  But  usually  it  is  not  necessary  at 
all,  specially  if  you  have  had  any  previous  experience  in 
hunting.  Use  his  eyes,  they  are  apt  to  be  better  than  yours, 
use  his  judgment  of  the  relative  size  of  heads,  it  is  sure  to 
be  better.  But  do  not  let  him  go  in  front.  It  is  the  front 
rank  man  who  gets  the  chance.  In  the  pause  and  the 
movement  of  passing,  fatal  notice  is  given  to  wary  game. 
If  the  beast  is  looking  at  you,  don't  crawl  for  an  ant 
hill  or  dodge  behind  a  bush.  Take  your  shot  at  once, 
miss  or  kill. 

A  lion  or  leopard  seldom  will  let  you  change  your 
position  once  he  sees  you,  without  rapidly  changing  his. 
Of  course,  if  you  are  still  unseen  you  can  be,  and  ought 
to  be,  as  deliberate  as  you  choose.  The  duffer  hurries 
when  there  is  no  occasion  to  hurry,  and  fumbles  and 
hesitates  when  the  chance  is  an  instantaneous  one  or  no 
chance  at  all. 

With  the  young  beast,  even  if  you  have  missed,  reload 
quickly  and  look  out  for  another  shot,  lion  will  often  give 
it  you,  but  be  careful  once  he  is  wounded.  A  young  three- 
quarters  grown  lion  has  mauled  many  a  man. 


ii6  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

And  this  leads  me  to  speak  of  dangerous  animals, 
when  they  are  dangerous,  and  how,  so  far  as  I  know,  that 
danger  can  be  met  and  minimized. 

How  a  man  should  hunt  in  Africa,  whether  alone, 
accompanied  by  his  gunbearer,  or  if  he  finds  it  too  hard 
work  to  carry  a  rifle  all  day  long,  by  his  two  gunbearers; 
or  whether  he  should  engage  a  professional  hunter  to  go 
with  him,  a  steady  shot  in  an  emergency,  depends,  of  course, 
on  the  man  himself. 

If  he  can  depend  on  his  nerves,  and  has  a  reasonable 
command  of  his  weapon,  it  is  far  pleasanter  to  hunt  alone. 
Hunting,  even  with  a  tried  friend,  is  a  doubtful  experiment. 
One  man  is  certain,  at  times,  to  spoil  the  other's  shot.  The 
moment  to  fire  cannot  possibly  be  arranged  by  the  "one, 
two,  three"  method,  or  by  any  other.  To  get  a  wary  animal 
you  want,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  to  make  the  final  part  of 
the  stalk  alone.  If  it  is  a  dangerous  beast,  such  as  lion, 
rhino,  buffalo,  or  elephant,  you  must  have  a  second  gun  to 
your  hand.  This  is  absolutely  necessary.  But  if  two 
sportsmen  are  making  the  final  crawl,  then  there  must 
accompany  them,  at  least  two  gunbearers,  that  makes 
four,  to  get  up  unnoticed  to  killing  range,  something  not 
always  to  be  accomplished. 

On  the  other  hand,  very  few  comparatively,  who  visit 
Africa  for  the  first  time,  have  had  much  opportuntiy  to  test 
their  nerves,  under  such  circumstances,  as  are  likely  to  arise 
here.  If  a  visitor  intends  to  make  but  a  short  trip,  to  con- 
fine his  wanderings  to  those  parts  of  the  country  easily 
reached  from  the  railroad  (even  then  I  think  he  will  find 
the  trip  interesting  and  well  worth  the  journey),  in  such  a 
case  he  need  not,  I  think,  fear  a  test  of  his  nerves  too  severe. 
But  to  enjoy  sefari  life,  and  to  see  the  beautiful  and  won- 
derful things  that  are  to  be  seen,  then  he  must  go  farther 
afield  to-day.  To  pick  up  twenty  different  kinds  of  heads 
and  bag  a  specimen  of  each  of  the  large  beasts  as  well,  is 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  117 

not  to  be  done,  any  more,  in  a  few  weeks.  Even  to  get 
good  specimens  of  such  beautiful  antelope  as  the  common 
Grant,  Thompson's  gazelle,  Impala  bushbuck,  Gnu,  or 
oryx,  will,  in  all  likelihood  require  many  weeks  of  conscien- 
tious work.  Lion  go  by  luck,  you  may  hear  them  nightly 
and  rarely  see  them  by  day.  Nine  times  out  of  ten  you 
may  take  every  precaution,  mount  the  ridges  slowly,  use 
intelligently  your  gunboy's  splendid  eyes,  as  well  as  your 
own  inferior  ones,  they  will  see  you  first.  In  that  case 
you  have  no  chance,  unless  you  are  on  fairly  good  riding 
ground  and  have  a  sufficiently  good  pony  to  bring  them  to 
bay.  This  is  all  true  of  rhino  with  presentable  horns. 
He  takes  much  trouble  to  find.  Good  men  have  spoored 
buffalo  for  a  month  without  getting  a  shot,  and  elephant 
no  man  can  count  on. 

So  I  cannot  advise  anyone  to  attempt  to  get  a  good 
collection  of  heads,  or  to  hope  to  see  African  wild  game  at 
all  thoroughly,  unless  he  can  spare  six  months  at  least  for 
the  trip.  For  a  serious  trip  then,  how  should  you  go  ? 
I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  there  is  little  danger 
likely  to  attend  it,  if  you  secure  the  backing  of  an  experi- 
enced hunter,  on  whose  shooting  and  nerve  you  can  depend 
in  a  tight  place.  I  also  have  no  less  hesitation  in  saying 
that  a  man  who  is  not  reasonably  a  master  of  his  nerve 
and  weapon,  is  foolish  to  attempt  dangerous  game,  alone. 
Then,  it  must  be  remembered,  that  sometimes,  especially 
in  the  case  of  the  plentiful  and  unaccountable  rhino, 
vicious  game  may  attack  him,  and  is  sure  to  do  so  when 
he  least  expects  it.  Reliable  hunters  knowing  the  country, 
who  will  not  take  the  tyro  when  he  ought  not  to  go,  are  to 
be  had.  Mr.  Hoey,  of  Eldama  Ravine,  is  one  of  the 
best.  Mr.  Cunningham  is  another,  Newland,  Carlton 
Company,  can  supply  several  more. 

I  am  far  from  wishing  to  exaggerate  the  danger  of  the 
wild  beast.  I  believe  that,  from  a  variety  of  causes,  this 


n8  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

has  been  in  the  past,  and  still  in  the  future,  is  likely  to  be 
much  overstated. 

When  we  tell  our  tales  of  adventure  by  flood  and  field, 
if  one  has  any  gift  of  speech  at  all,  the  story  is  not  likely 
to  lose  in  the  telling.  No  one  can  question  facts  or  measure 
distances  on  the  smoking-room  floor.  The  length  of 
shots  is  apt  to  increase  with  the  years.  The  aspect  of 
the  charging  heads  to  grow  more,  not  less,  formidable. 
To  say  as  much  is  but  to  confess  to  one  of  the  limitations 
of  our  common  humanity. 

But  apart  from  such  perhaps  excusable  licence,  multi- 
tudes of  stories  told  in  good  faith  by  the  actors  in  them 
are  actually  unreliable  to  the  last  degree,  because  these 
gentlemen  have  not  known,  or  cared  to  know,  the  habits 
of  the  beasts  in  whose  slaying  they  have  won  renown. 

Take  our  American  grizzly  bear,  for  instance.  It 
seems  a  point  of  honour,  with  everyone  who  has  shot  a 
grizzly,  be  he  Western  ranchman  or  sportsman  who  spends 
his  occasional  holiday  in  the  Rockies,  to  help  our  one 
savage  (so-called)  animal  to  live  up  to,  or  rather,  die  up 
to,  such  a  reputation  that  shall  not  lose  by  comparison 
with  the  king  of  beasts  himself. 

This  is  ridiculous.  When  Lewis  and  Clark  first 
saw  and  named  our  great  gray  bear,  he  had  the  country 
pretty  much  to  himself.  His  only  opponent  was  the  ill- 
armed  Indian,  whose  flint  arrows  could  scarcely  pierce 
the  bear's  thick  hide.  The  bear  was  no  use  to  the  Indian, 
who  naturally  kept  clear  of  him.  Lewis  and  Clark,  there- 
fore, found  him  a  formidable  animal  enough,  especially 
when  compared  with  his  smaller  black  cousin,  who  could 
be  killed  with  a  well-wielded  axe.  The  men  accompany- 
ing Lewis  and  Clark's  expedition  were  armed  with  the 
musket,  a  very  inferior  weapon,  or  the  small  bore  rifle. 
These  were  not  likely  to  kill,  at  one  shot,  the  fine  beasts 
which  weighed  eight  hundred  pounds  or  even  more. 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  119 

He  seemed  to  them,  as,  indeed,  he  was,  immensely  strong, 
and  tenacious  of  life.  The  early  trappers  for  the  same 
reason  dreaded  him,  and  trappers'  yarns  largely  helped  to 
retain  for  him  his  reputation.  I  saw  myself  a  great  skin 
which  two  trappers  tried  to  sell  me  in  1868.  They  told  a 
blood-curdling  story  of  his  slaying.  He  had  hurt  neither 
of  them,  but  the  skin  certainly  had  thirteen  Henry  rifle 
bullets  through  it.  The  rifle  with  which  they  were  armed 
was  an  admirable  gun  for  standing  off  Indians,  but  a  poor 
weapon  to  kill  a  grizzly  with.  But  with  the  advent  of  the 
powerful  modern  rifle  things  changed.  It  was  found 
by  those  who  tried  to  tell  the  truth  (and  I  am  not  in  any 
unkindly  way  maligning  the  memory  of  those  interesting 
old  fellows  who  lived  hermits'  lives  amid  the  mountains, 
when  I  say  they  very  seldom  did  try  to  do  this)  that  a 
grizzly  fell  to  a  well-placed  shot  just  as  quickly  as  any  other 
heavy  animal.  Moreover,  it  came  to  be  known  that  that 
bear  has  an  almost  invariable  custom  of  falling  right  down 
to  any  shot  that  hits  him  anywhere,  even  though  it  inflict 
but  a  small  wound.  This  accounts,  by  the  way,  for  stories 
so  common  of  this  unusual  tenacity  of  life.  Then  at  length 
men  who  had  hunted  him  regularly  for  years  and  killed 
him  in  his  chosen  haunt  of  rocky  canyon  and  steepest 
darkest  mountain  woodland,  began  to  confess  to  each 
other  the  simple  truth;  and  it  was  this:  that  no  animal 
capable  of  killing  a  man,  took  more  pains  to  run  away  or 
ran  faster  or  farther  than  Ursus  Horribilis. 

I  can  speak  with  some  first-hand  knowledge,  because  for 
ten  consecutive  years  but  one  I  hunted  him  perseveringly. 
I  never  was  charged  by  a  grizzly  except  once,  and  that  was 
when  creeping  up  to  his  kill,  which  he  had  buried  under 
a  great  heap  of  stones,  earth  and  stumps,  and  behind  which 
he  lay  half  asleep,  after  a  heavy  meal.  He  mistook  my 
footfall  for  that  of  some  cousin  of  his,  coming  without  an 
invitation  to  sup  off  his  elk,  and  in  incontinent  hurry 


120  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

threw  himself  up  and  over  the  mound  to  drive  off  the 
intruder.  That  was,  of  course,  not  a  premeditated  charge. 
I  had  to  shoot  quick,  because  he  was  very  near  and  could 
not  well  stop  the  impetus  of  his  rush,  I  do  not  think  he  had 
time  even  to  try;  but  I  am  confident  all  the  same,  that  that 
bear's  last  mental  impressions  were  those  of  dismay  and 
not  fury. 

The  largest  bear  I  ever  had  the  good  fortune  to  kill, 
and  he  was  a  very  large  one,  I  came  on  suddenly  in  the 
dark,  as  I  felt  my  way  along  a  narrow  mountain  trail  to- 
ward the  cheering  spot  of  camp  fire  that  burned  far  below, 
lit  by  my  hunter  to  guide  me  to  our  solitary  bivouac.  I 
did  not  see  him  till  he  loomed  up  before  me,  Very  high 
he  looked  in  the  darkness,  and  very  near.  He  did  not 
charge  nor  did  he  get  out  of  the  way.  But  then  all  savage 
beasts  know  their  advantage  at  night,  and  are  not  ready 
to  forego  it. 

I  know  many  of  my  readers  may  not  be  convinced  by 
these  statements  of  mine,  yet  I  am  confident  there  is  weight 
in  them.  Remember,  too,  that  seven  times  out  of  ten 
when  a  grizzly  bear  was  first  seen,  he  was  grubbing  under 
stones  on  the  higher  mountain  slope  along  which  he  would 
move  almost  as  fast  as  a  good  man  could  walk.  He  had 
to  be  followed,  perhaps  for  hours  at  a  fast  walk.  When 
at  last  the  hunter  drew  near,  he  was  pretty  well  spent  with 
climbing,  and  was  inclined,  unless  he  was  an  old  hand, 
to  save  himself  the  trouble  of  mounting  some  hundred 
feet  higher  than  his  game,  so  took  his  shot  from  below. 
The  grizzly's  haunts  would  be  down  the  steep,  not  up, 
some  woody  canyon,  from  which  he  had  started,  he  would 
be  sure  to  make  for,  at  the  first  alarm,  His  sight  is  poor. 
He  cannot  distinguish,  among  the  boulders  strewn  about, 
the  spot  of  brown  that  is  shooting  at  him.  He  simply 
plunges  downward  and  homeward,  and  if  the  man  is  on 
his  way,  he  will  run  into  him  or  over  him. 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  121 

I  have  seen,  myself,  a  bear,  shot  at  from  that  foolish 
position,  almost  run  over  two  good  men,  who  in  their  hurry 
to  get  out  of  his  way,  missed  him  clean,  and  were  them- 
selves in  danger  for  a  moment. 

I  have  also  known  of  a  soldier  of  the  Fifth  Infantry, 
an  excellent  shot,  killed  by  a  small  bear  in  a  plum  thicket, 
into  which  he  had  the  temerity  to  follow  the  beast,  after 
wounding  him  with  his  Springfield  rifle. 

I  have  seen  a  three-quarters  grown  grizzly  charge  savagely 
after  being  shot  through  the  body,  when  he  had  been 
followed  into  a  corner  of  the  rocks,  from  which  he  could 
in  no  way  retreat. 

But  none  of  these  instances,  nor  yet  hundreds  more 
like  them,  which  anyone  who  had  hunted  successfully  in 
our  mountains  for  years  could  supply,  invalidates  my  con- 
tentions; that  whatever  sort  of  an  opponent  the  great  gray 
bear  may  have  been  a  hundred  years  ago,  he  is  to-day,  and 
he  has  been  for  many  years,  an  exceedingly  timid  animal. 

He  falls  to  the  slightest  wound.  I  have  seen  one  fall, 
making  a  terrible  outcry,  and  roll  fully  fifty  yards  down 
hill,  to  a  shot  that  only  slightly  wounded  one  of  his  fore 
paws.  When,  still  roaring,  he  rolled  almost  up  against 
me,  his  sudden  dismay  was  ludicrous.  He  gathered  him- 
self up  from  the  ground  in  an  instant,  and  went  off  at  a 
great  pace  till  shot.  My  hunter,  Frank  Chatfield,  who 
was  with  me  in  my  annual  hunt  for  many  years,  a  splendid 
shot,  had  killed  before  his  death,  more  than  a  hundred 
grizzlies.  He  told  me  he  never  knew  a  grizzly  to  charge 
home.  Very  rarely  he  would  rush  forward  on  receiving 
his  wound  (he  did  not  probably  see  his  enemy)  and  also 
very  occasionally  before  "clearing,"  he  would  stand  up 
straight  and  growl,  giving  any  man  with  ordinary  nerve, 
all  the  chance  he  wanted,  to  shoot  him  dead.  But  charge 
in,  he  never  did.  I  have  shot,  in  the  old  days,  twenty-five, 
I  never  saw  one  charge. 


122  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

I  will  add  one  short  story,  as  a  further  illustration  of 
my  contention.  A  friend  of  mine,  now  dead,  told  me  he 
wanted  above  all  things  to  kill  a  grizzly.  So  I  wrote  to 
Frank  C—  -  and  my  friend  went  out  to  the  Shoshone 
Mountains.  In  a  couple  of  months  he  came  to  see  me  in 
New  York,  and  told  a  blood-curdling  tale,  of  how  he  and 
Frank  had  been  charged  by  three  bears,  and  how,  at  a 
few  feet  distance,  they  had  killed  them.  I  was  surprised, 
but,  of  course,  said  nothing.  Next  year  I  said  to  my 
man,  "What  about  those  three  grizzlies  that  charged 

you  and ?"  He  laughed.  "We  were  hidden,'*  said  he, 

"in  the  scrub,  at  the  foot  of  a  nut  pine.  The  bait  we  had 
for  them  was  fifty  yards  away.  An  old  sow  and  two 

yearling  cubs  came  all  right  in  the  evening.  wounded 

the  sow  he  first  shot,  and  she  and  her  cubs  came  rushing 
by  our  tree,  they  never  saw  us,  they  had  no  idea  where  the 
shot  came  from.  We  killed  them  as  they  ran  by  and 
passed  us." 

I  hope  these  dissertations  on  our  only  dangerous  game 
animals  may  not  seem  without  interest  or  out  of  place 
here.  I  dwell  on  them,  for  I  am  convinced,  that  the  dan- 
ger of  charging  beasts,  which  is  I  admit,  considerable  in 
Africa,  has  been  very  needlessly  and  grossly  exaggerated. 

It  is  serious,  and  must  be  prepared  for,  but  there  is; 
no  need  to  make  it  out  worse  than  it  is.  Many  men  have 
killed  all  sorts  of  animals  here,  and  will  tell  you  honestly 
they  have  never  seen  the  determined  charge  of  lion,  rhino, 
elephant,  buffalo,  or  leopard.  Yet,  of  course,  the  fact 
remains  that  many  are  killed  or  mauled  by  these  animals. 
And  though  you  may  shoot  several  of  them,  and  never 
stand  on  the  stern  defensive,  when  it  is  your  life  or  theirs, 
the  very  first  lion  or  rhino  you  wound,  may  come  straight 
at  you,  and  may  not  swerve  or  pass  to  either  side. 

The  little  burial  ground  at  Nairobi  has  several  head- 
stones marked  "killed  by  lions."  All  elephant  hunters  tell 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  123 

the  same  story;  and  men  are  yearly  run  down  and  gored 
or  trampled  to  death  by  rhino.  Buffalo  are  scarce,  but  no 
wounded  animal  in  Africa  is  perhaps  quite  as  dangerous 
or  so  cunning  or  determined.  These  facts  are  well  known, 
and  do  not  need  confirmation  by  anyone. 

Therefore  I  say  again,  it  is  for  the  man  himself  to 
decide  whether  he  goes  hunting  alone,  or  whether  he 
takes,  to  back  him,  a  hunter  of  tried  nerve  and  a  steady  shot. 

Mr.  Buxton  in  his  delightful  book,  "Short  Stalks," 
tells  (I  hope  he  will  not  be  offended  with  me  for  saying) 
in  a  somewhat  too  flippant  strain  it  seems  to  me,  the 
story  of  the  "boys"  adventure  with  a  buffalo  on  the 
White  Nile.  The  lad  wounded  the  animal,  followed  him 
up,  and  was  promptly  charged.  Failed,  of  course,  to 
stop  him,  and  was  thrown  into  the  air.  His  escape 
was  wonderful.  Not  one  man  so  caught  in  five  escapes 
with  his  life. 

Inexperienced  shots,  intent  on  making  real  hunting 
trips,  are  to  my  mind  foolish  indeed  to  hunt  in  Africa 
alone.  They  may  not  be  guilty  of  the  folly  of  certain 
ladies  who  have  lately  told  of  their  extraordinary  experi- 
ences in  another  part  of  Africa,  and  who  seem  to  have 
run  up  to  bushes  where  they  had  seen  two  lions  enter,  and 
only  shot  at  one.  Or  who  took  their  unfortunate 
gunbearers  into  thick  scrub  after  rhino,  and  as  soon  as 
they  saw  the  big  brown  hide,  blazed  into  it,  anywhere, 
not  having  any  idea  whether  they  were  shooting  at  rump 
or  shoulder.  Small  wonder  indeed  that  one  of  these 
wretched  men  was  gored  and  stamped  to  death.  Such 
action  is  criminal  in  its  folly.  The  African  scrub  is  no 
place  for  a  woman  anyway. 

The  surprises  of  the  country  are  so  many  and  so  sudden, 
that  I  should  advise  most  men,  to  avail  themselves  of 
experience  maturer  than  their  own.  Be  it  remembered, 
too,  that  apart  from  its  danger  and  pain,  a  serious  accident 


i24  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

spoils  the  trip  for  yourself,  and  most  probably  for  your 
companion,  if  you  are  not  alone. 

What  I  have  said  refers  to  the  highly  dangerous  animals 
every  hunter  wants  to  bag.  But  caution  is  necessary  in 
approaching  all  wounded  game.  Even  the  most  pacific 
beasts  are  perpetually  defending  themselves  by  guile  or 
force  from  predatory  beasts.  The  African  antelopes  are 
on  the  watch  from  late  evening  till  daylight.  Their  horns 
and  hoofs  are  formidable  instruments,  offensive  and  de- 
fensive. The  stroke  they  can  deliver  is  so  lightning-like 
in  its  quickness  that  no  one  who  has  not  seen  it  could 
realize  it. 

The  oryx,  the  sturdy  and  keen  horned  bushbuck, 
the  hartebeast  or  kongoni,  and,  above  all,  the  splendid 
waterbuck,  will  on  occasion,  turn  sharply  on  the  foe. 
Many  a  careless  sportsman  has  been  wounded,  one  I 
know  of  killed,  by  wounded  waterbuck.  The  only  acci- 
dent I  have  met  with,  befell  me  from  one  of  these  ante- 
lopes, and  I  had  no  one  but  myself  to  blame.  It  was  my 
first  visit  to  Africa.  I  was  coming  back  toward  Nairobi 
from  a  three  weeks'  unsuccessful  search  for  a  lion.  I 
was  using  a  little  six-pound  Mannlicher  rifle,  I  am  very  fond 
of,  and  which  I  always  carry  for  its  lightness.  We  (I  had 
a  good  professional  hunter  with  me  at  that  time)  were  in  a 
country  where  the  Sing  Sing  waterbuck  was  to  be  found, 
a  different  species  from  the  common  waterbuck,  and  I 
had  not  yet  secured  a  specimen.  So  seeing  a  waterbuck's 
head  through  a  bush,  not  more  than  eighty  yards  away, 
I  shot  at  it  with  the  little  gun,  and  it  fell  to  the  shot  like  a 
stone.  On  going  up,  there  it  lay  full  length  on  the  ground. 
The  bullet  had  entered  the  forehead,  just  at  the  inner  side 
of  the  eye,  and  did  not  kill  instantly,  though  the  poor  beast 
seemed  just  gone.  I  told  my  gunbearer  to  finish  it  with 
the  knife.  He  was  a  cowardly  fellow  (though  on  this 
occasion  he  showed  his  sense)  and  refused  point  blank 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  125 

to  go  near.  Now,  I  had  just  four  cartridges  left  for  that 
rifle,  and  I  hated  to  use  them  up,  so  instead  of  following 
the  man's  example,  who  had  at  least  had  far  more  experi- 
ence than  I  (and  as  once  or  twice  already  I  had  finished 
animals  that  he  had  refused  to  go  near,  instead  of  using 
another  cartridge  to  make  sure),  I  came  behind  the  water- 
buck,  well  clear  of  his  horns,  and  straddling  him  as  I  had 
to,  drove  the  knife  in.  He  was  on  his  feet  with  a  bound, 
throwing  me,  I  cannot  say  how  many  feet,  over  his  head, 
and  with  another  bound  was  on  top  of  me.  My  hunter 
shot  him  in  the  neck  promptly  (a  foolish  place,  by  the 
way,  to  shoot,  for  no  man  can  be  sure  of  breaking  the  bone, 
and  if  you  miss  it  you  do  little  harm).  He  was  too  far 
gone,  most  fortunately,  to  do  me  damage  with  his  horns, 
but  his  trampling  hurt  me  dreadfully,  he  weighed  quite  six 
hundred  pounds.  I  limped  to  camp  and  lay  there  for  several 
days  before  addressing  myself  as  best  as  I  could,  to  the 
eighty-mile  walk  to  Nairobi.  I  got  there  at  last,  hobbling 
along  about  eight  or  ten  miles  a  day,  my  ankle  and  knee 
much  swollen.  The  ankle  hurt  most  and  mended  soonest. 
But  that  knee  cost  me  many  a  weary  month  in  bed  and  on 
sofa  afterward. 

After  what  I  have  said,  I  shall  not,  I  hope,  be  accused 
of  exaggerating  the  danger  likely  to  be  met  with  by  the 
well-equipped  sportsman  in  pursuit  of  game  in  East  Africa. 
But  after  making  due  allowance  for  hunters'  stories, 
specially  inexperienced  hunters'  stories,  a  certain  amount 
of  risk  has  to  be  run.  Lion,  rhino,  elephant,  and  buffalo, 
at  times  are  very  dangerous,  and  life  is  often  lost.  Ninety- 
nine  times  out  of  a  hundred,  it  is  the  wounded  beast  who 
does  the  damage,  and  not  only  so,  but  it  is  in  following 
up  wounded  beasts  that  life  or  limb  is  lost. 

Every  good  man  will  take  a  risk  sometimes,  and  will 
be  surely  right  in  doing  so.  But  there  are  risks  to  his 
own  life,  and  be  it  remembered  to  his  men's  lives,  that 


126  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

he  is  not  justified  in  taking.  I  have  written  at  length  of 
lion  hunting  in  another  chapter,  but  here  let  me  jot  down 
a  few  things  about  the  other  savage  beasts;  and  will  my 
reader  please  always  remember  that  I  am  not  trying  to 
instruct  the  experienced,  but  seeking  to  help  the  inex- 
perienced sportsman.  And  as  I  attempt  to  do  so,  may 
happily  interest  some,  who  would  like  to  know  a  little  of 
that  wild  life  circumstances  have  denied  them  chances  to  see. 

Take  the  rhino,  a  great  lumbering  brute  he  seems  as 
you  look  at  him,  with  his  extraordinary  ill-formed,  ugly 
head,  small  pig  eye,  and  formidably  armed  snout.  He 
weighs  perhaps  two  tons,  and  looks  as  though  nothing 
could  stop  or  turn  him.  I  have  myself  no  doubt  from  what 
I  have  seen,  and  also  from  what  I  have  heard,  that  the 
rhino,  like  our  grizzly,  is  losing  in  the  presence  of  well 
armed  man,  a  good  deal  of  his  pugnacity.  He  very  seldom 
charges  deliberately.  I  have  approached  fifty  rhinos,* 
and  beyond  the  usual  stamping  and  snorting  (his  method 
of  greeting  an  object  he  cannot  make  out),  I  have  never 
seen  any  of  them  show  determination  to  attack.  (Later 
I  had  good  reason  to  modify  this  statement.)  Yet  if  you 
are  to  believe  stories  you  hear  of  men  who  have  seen 
but  one  or  two,  and  indeed  I  must  add  stories  told  by  some 
old  hands,  you  would  expect  every  second  rhino  you  meet 
to  charge  you  without  warning. 

When  a  rhino  receives  a  shot  he  is  apt  to  spin  around 
once  or  twice,  and  rush  off  at  a  great  pace,  leaving  the 
direction  of  that  rush  almost  to  chance,  though  he  will 
go  up  wind  usually  if  he  can.  He  may  happen  to  take 
your  direction,  most  probably  he  will  not.  He  cannot  see 
you  at  more  than  thirty  of  forty  yards  off.  But  he  is  cer- 
tainly very  sensitive  to  the  footfall  of  man  or  horse,  and 
sometimes,  even  the  wind,  of  course,  being  favourable  for 
it  shows  signs  of  alertness,  at  a  hundred  yards  distance. 

*And  many  more  since  this  was  written. 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  127 

He  is  not  hard  to  kill  for  all  his  thick  hide,  and,  most  for- 
tunate of  all,  he  is  not  hard  to  turn,  when  he  does  come 
your  way. 

The  danger  with  the  rhino  is,  that  in  an  extraordinary 
way,  he  manages  to  conceal  himself  in  cover,  when  it  would 
seem  impossible,  and  getting  the  wind  of  the  hunter  or  the 
sefari,  as  he  is  taking  his  siesta  in  the  brush,  he  stumbles 
forth  blindly  and  in  a  hurry  going  up  into  the  tainted 
breeze.  Your  porters'  loads  go  cracking  down,  and  men 
and  totos  take  to  the  trees.  In  this  way  damage  is  some- 
times done.  But  there  are  many,  many  scares  for  one 
man  really  hurt. 

I  had  once  a  rhino  thrust  his  head  out  of  a  bush  on 
to  me,  at  not  more  than  three  or  four  feet  distance.  My 
useless  gunboy  bolted;  and  so  did  the  poor  beast,  when  I 
had  to  fire  quickly  in  his  face.  I  don't  think  I  hurt  him 
much,  I  am  sure  I  hope  I  did  not,  but  he  might  have  crushed 
me  had  I  not  fired,  and,  of  course,  to  take  chances  of  his 
turning  away  at  that  distance,  were  not  to  be  thought  of. 
If  his  temper  is  up,  and  he  comes  right  on,  a  shot  from 
a  good  rifle  will  always  make  him  swerve  in  his  charge,  and 
pass  you  a  few  yards  to  one  side.  If  you  want  to  kill  him,  a 
shot  as  he  passes  will  usually  do  it.  Small-bore  rifles 
seem  to  kill  rhino  almost  as  quickly  as  large.  Better  use 
nickel  bullets. 

Buffalo  are  more  plentiful  than  they  were  a  few  years 
ago.  The  cattle  plague  almost  exterminated  them  in  some 
districts  where  it  used  to  be  possible  to  get  a  fair  head. 
But,  at  best,  buffalo  are  hard  to  bag  in  British  East  Africa. 
They  frequent  the  denser  thicket  country  generally  near 
rivers,  feed  early  in  the  morning,  and  late  in  the  evening, 
and  at  the  slightest  alarm  plunge  into  scrub,  when  it  is 
highly  imprudent  to  follow  them  if  wounded.  Unwounded, 
even  a  cow  when  followed  by  her  calf,  will  sometimes 
charge  desperately.  If  the  ground  is  at  all  open,  and 


128  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

there  is  space  between  the  bushy  clumps  to  see  what  you 
shot  at,  a  charging  buffalo  with  lowered  head,  should  be 
easy  to  stop.  The  great  broad  shoulders  and  neck  offering 
a  mark  which  is  almost  impossible  to  miss.  Such  a  country 
is  that  round  the  upper  waters  of  the  Guasi  Nyiro  end  of 
the  north,  and  usually  these  animals  are  very  plentiful  here. 

Thickets  near  the  water  side,  or  on  mountain  land, 
are  a  totally  different  matter.  No  one  who  has  not  tried 
to  force  a  way  through  African  cover,  can  have  any  idea 
of  its  holding  qualities.  Legs,  arms,  rifle,  hat,  may  be 
tied  down,  dragged  back,  plucked  over  your  eyes,  all  at 
the  same  moment.  For  long  distances  you  must  crawl 
through  dark,  leafy,  prickly,  tunnels,  where  you  can  see 
nothing  ahead  of  you.  So  handicapped,  the  best  shot  in 
the  world  has  a  poor  chance  for  his  life,  with  the  rhino  or 
buffalo. 

The  rhino  blunders  on  top  of  you.  The  buffalo  lays 
in  wait  for  you,  cunningly  chooses  his  position  near  his 
own  retreating  spoor,  but  to  one  side.  He  has  doubled 
back  on  his  course  to  do  so.  And  when  he  sees  you,  and 
you  cannot  see  him,  charges  home,  nothing  but  death  stop- 
ping his  rush. 

I  have  known  of  a  good  man  killed  in  the  evening  by 
a  buffalo  he  had  wounded  in  the  morning,  and  whose  spoor 
he  had  for  many  hours  abandoned.  He  was  coming  back 
to  camp  through  the  same  country  he  hunted  in  the  morning. 
As  he  did  so  he  unfortunately  chanced  to  pass  close  to  the 
spot  where  all  day  long,  the  wounded  beast  had  awaited 
his  enemy.  He  was  killed  almost  instantly. 

I  was,  as  I  think  now,  foolish  enough  in  just  such  a 
covert,  to  follow  the  first  buffalo  I  had  wounded,  for  four 
hours.  There,  several  times,  he  doubled  on  his  track,  and 
stood  waiting  till  I  came  up  and  passed  him  by.  It  was  quite 
impossible  to  see  him.  His  heart  must  have  failed 
him  at  the  last  moment,  for  all  the  sign  I  had  of  him  was 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  129 

the  crashing  of  the  bushes,  a  few  yards  away,  as  he 
charged  off,  and  not  at  me! 

Mr.  A ,  of  the  Chicago  Field  Museum,  a  first-class 

shot  and  hunter,  tracked  buffalo  for  two  months  in  this 
country  before  he  secured  what  he  wanted.  If  you  have 
time  and  patience,  and  wait  till  you  get  a  fair  chance,  and 
so  can  choose  your  head,  you  are  reasonably  sure,  for  years 
to  come,  to  be  able  to  secure,  what  I  think  is  the  best  trophy 
that  Africa  can  yield  you. 

Professional  hunters  have  always  made  use  of  the 
local  native  for  elephant  hunting.  These  were  commonly 
sent  off  to  look  for  fresh  "sign,"  or  to  locate  herds,  the 
ivory  hunter  staying  in  camp  till  reliable  news  was  brought 
to  him.  This  is  really  almost  the  only  way  to  secure  big 
ivory,  and  it  means  that  for  a  considerable  time,  all  other 
hunting  and  travelling  must  be  foregone.  Personally,  I 
never  cared  enough  for  an  elephant  to  do  it.  The  waiting 
may  be  for  long,  and  the  wooded  country  you  are  obliged 
to  wait  in  is  dreary  in  the  extreme.  Of  course,  sefaris 
may,  and  do,  happen  on  to  elephant.  I  have  done  so  three 
several  times,  and  twice  have  been  able  to  stalk  close  up 
to  the  herd.  But  in  none  of  those  three  cases  was  there 
a  big  tusker  in  the  lot.  The  game  regulations  now  forbid 
any  elephant  to  be  shot  carrying  less  than  sixty  pounds 
of  ivory  to  the  two  tusks.  Now  there  is  no  reason  why  a 
much  more  frequent  use  of  local  native  help  should  not  be 
made,  when  other  game  than  elephant  is  sought.  But 
very  few  sportsmen  think  of  doing  so.  If  you  want  lion, 
try  and  reach  the  neighbouring  N'dorobo,  or  Massai  or 
Kikuyu,  tell  them  they  are  sure  of  "bakshish"  if  they 
show  you  a  fresh  and  undisturbed  "kill."  The  "undis- 
turbed" part  of  the  bargain  is  all  important,  for  if  they, 
as  they  are  apt  to  do,  go  first  up  to  the  carcass,  and  cut 
off  some  of  the  meat,  or,  if  you  are  in  Kikuyu  land,  and  they 
set  snares  for  the  birds  (these  snares  are  very  cleverly  laid, 


130  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

nooses  of  kongoni  sinew,  laid  down  in  the  grass;  maraboo 
and  vultures  entangle  their  feet  in  them,  as  they  come  to 
feed  on  the  carrion)  whose  feathers  they  covet,  then  the 
chances  of  the  lion  returning  to  the  kill  are  but  slight. 
Generally  a  lion  will  return  next  night  to  his  kill,  often 
staying  there  till  quite  late  in  the  morning.  Even  if  he 
goes  away  at  daylight,  he  will  lie  up  at  the  nearest  water 
or  in  some  brush  hard  by.  You  can,  in  this  way,  get  some 
idea  of  his  whereabouts  and  often  get  a  shot. 

Or,  the  natives  may  locate  him  in  some  favourite  ravine, 
where  several  lions,  will  often  for  quite  a  long  time,  take  up 
their  quarters.  Or,  again,  the  Massai  may  have  tracked 
the  great  cattle  thief  to  some  family  refuge  in  a  kopji, 
and  you  might  be  weeks  in  the  neighbourhood  without 
discovering  it.  There  are,  in  short,  a  great  variety  of 
ways,  in  which  you  can  get  aid  and  information  from  the 
local  native  and  be  sure  and  use  him  when  you  can.  You 
must  be  prepared,  however,  in  the  first  instance,  to  be  often 
denied  all  information.  I  suppose  the  tribes  have  their 
own  reasons  for  this  cause  of  action,  for  it  is  very  common, 
but  I  could  never  discover  it.  The  N'dorobo,  for  instance, 
who  may  be  very  meat  hungry,  when  you  first  see  them, 
and  who  are  living  meagrely  on  honey  and  meat  stolen 
from  lion  "kills,"  are  likely  to  assure  you,  when  you  ask 
if  there  are  many  lions  round,  that  there  are  none  within 
three  or  four  marches.  In  a  week  these  same  N'dorobo 
will  haunt  your  camp,  crowd  to  your  fire,  till  you  have 
to  drive  them  away,  and  bring  their  sick  to  get  "dowa" 
(medicine). 

If  there  are  many  of  these  hunting  "wild  men,"  as  the 
other  tribes  call  them,  in  your  neighbourhood,  better  come 
to  an  understanding  with  them  about  this  matter  of  "kills." 
Promise  to  give  them  a  kongoni  now  and  then,  if  they  will 
leave  all  kills  alone,  and  come  to  you  as  soon  as  they  find 
one.  If  some  such  arrangement  is  not  made  with  them, 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  131 

you  are  likely  to  find  your  meat  taken  from  the  carcass 
you  intended  for  your  boys,  unless  you  have  left  a  man  to 
guard  it  (while  you  went  to  camp  to  order  porters  out), 
and  it  is  not  always  possible  to  leave  a  man  on  guard. 

It  is  wonderful  to  see  the  vultures  come  to  a  carcass. 
Not  one  can  be  seen  with  a  glass,  as  you  first  sit  down, 
near  the  fallen  game.  But  in  ten  minutes,  the  broad  black 
wings  are  sure  to  be  sailing  far  above  you.  The  coming 
of  the  wild  man  is,  to  me,  almost  as  mysterious.  I  have 
walked  away  from  my  game  as  though  I  intended  aban- 
doning it,  and  going  to  a  distance,  have  hidden  behind  some 
shelter  from  which  I  could  command  the  country  with  my 
glass.  In  a  wonderfully  short  time  a  black  dot  of  a  head 
would  be  cautiously  lifted  from  the  grass,  or  miles  away 
I  would  see  one,  two,  three,  tiny  black  figures  running 
along  in  single  file,  as  they  always  travel,  all  making  a 
true  course  for  the  game  they  somehow  smelled  out  so 
strangely. 

The  lesson  I  would  have  drawn  from  this  is:  Have 
someone  in  your  sefari  who  can  talk  to  the  N'dorobo. 
Sometimes  these  people  can  speak  a  little  Massai  or  Kikuyu, 
oftener  they  cannot,  and  in  lion  country  especially,  it  is 
well  to  be  on  good  terms  with  them,  they  are  exceedingly 
timid,  and  quite  harmless.  Though  sefari  men  are  generally 
rather  nervous  of  meeting  them,  saying  they  fear  their 
poisoned  arrows. 

In  Massai  land,  if  you  happen  on  a  country  where  there 
is  little  game,  but  where  the  lions  still  are  heard,  you  can 
reckon  on  the  hearty  support  of  the  herdsmen  in  hunting 
them  down.  Where  game  is  plentiful  lions  seem  generally 
to  leave  the  herds  alone,  but  when  game  is  scarce  then  the 
lion  becomes  bold  indeed  and  exceedingly  dangerous. 
Then  he  will,  by  some  cunning  device  or  another,  stampede 
the  crowded  occupants  of  the  kraal,  and  spite  of  spear 
and  firebrand,  take  his  pick,  and  carry  it  off.  In  such 


i32  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

cases  the  Massai  are  glad  of  your  help,  and  you  may  reckon 
pretty  safely  on  the  lion's  return  to  his  toothsome  "kill." 
The  difficulty  is  to  prevent  the  owners  taking  all  the  meat 
the  lion  has  left.  If  you  can  by  purchase  or  persuasion 
prevent  this,  and  if  the  moon  is  shining,  then  have  a  thorn 
boma,  built  for  yourself,  a  few  yards  from  the  kill,  and  you 
have  as  sure  a  thing  as  there  is  in  lion  hunting,  which  is 
not  saying  much.  I  have  never  been  able  to  induce  a  lion 
to  come  back  to  his  game  kill,  if  it  had  been  disturbed, 
or  if  a  boma  was  put  up  nearby.  When  there  was  no 
game  to  speak  of,  and  a  fat  cow  had  been  killed,  I  have  had 
him  come  back  two  nights  running  and  pull  a  boma,  we  had 
built,  to  pieces,  to  get  at  his  meal,  and,  the  Massai  tell  me, 
it  is  always  so. 

If  there  are  trees  close  by,  there  is  a  much  easier  and 
safer  way  of  getting  him.  Have  a  place  put  up  in  a  tree, 
close  as  you  can  get  to  the  kill,  and  fix  yourself  so  that  you 
will  not  fall  down  if  you  should  nod.  This  can  be  done  near 
an  undisturbed  game  kill.  One  man,  I  know  of,  killed,  in  this 
way,  four  fine  lions,  on  one  lucky  night.  But  I  should  not 
advise  either  of  these  methods  unless  there  is  a  moon, 
and  the  weather  is  dry.  A  soaking  cold  rain  may  do  you 
so  much  harm  that  even  a  lion  skin  will  not  repay  you. 
The  night,  too,  seems  very  long,  and  it  is  cramping,  tedious 
work.  If  you  have  crouched  in  the  bows  of  your  "birch 
bark"  all  through  a  September  night,  while  your  hunter 
has  "called"  the  harmless  moose,  you  will  remember  well 
how  every  bone  in  your  body  ached,  before  the  welcome 
sunbeams  came  slanting  over  the  dark  spruce  tops,  and 
the  tall  frost  rimmed  swamp  grass.  But  you  can  make 
yourself  far  more  comfortable  in  a  canoe,  than  you  can, 
perched  on  a  tree  limb,  or  crouching  behind  a  thin 
screen  of  thorn  bush.  Still  lions  are  worth  trying  for  in 
every  sort  of  way. 

The  most  difficult  trophy  to  get,  and  I  think  the  finest 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  133 

of  all,  is  the  buffalo  head.  And  here,  at  least  as  much  as 
with  the  lion,  the  local  native  can  help.  One  of  the  chief 
difficulties  about  the  buffalo  is,  that  some  slight  cause 
may  make  him  change  his  quarters.  He  is  here  in  large 
numbers  one  month,  the  next  he  is  gone  and  trace  him 
you  cannot.  His  chosen  haunt  is  often  inaccessible  to  you, 
even  if  you  are  willing  to  take  the  risk  of  following  him  into 
the  dark  labyrinth  of  swamp  and  jungle  through  which 
he  tunnels  or  crashes,  or,  wonderful  to  relate,  moves  if 
he  wishes  it,  almost  noiselessly.  You  cannot  do  so.  No 
living  man,  not  the  naked  savage  himself,  can  force  a  pas- 
sage without  making  a  noise,  sufficient  to  give  warning 
of  his  approach.  Nor  can  the  breeze  be  depended  on  in 
these  thickets.  No,  the  only  real  chance  you  have,  comes, 
when  he  leaves  his  fastness,  to  feed  in  the  glade  or  on  the 
marsh,  close  by.  Now,  unlike  the  elephant,  which  loves 
rain,  and  can  never  have  enough  of  it,  the  buffalo  dislikes 
it.  Consequently  information  you  collect  with  care,  about 
where  you  should  go,  etc.,  and  when,  etc.,  is  by  a  change 
of  season  rendered  useless  and  misleading.  You  march 
the  sefari  ten  days  to  some  locality  where  your  friend  got  a 
good  head,  where  he  left  plenty  of  buffalo,  and  which  you 
have  good  reason  for  believing  has  not  been  disturbed  since 
he  left  it.  Your  hopes  are  high.  Alas!  nothing  comes 
of  all  your  trouble;  when  you  reach  the  land  of  desire  and 
hunt  it  thoroughly,  you  are  not  rewarded  by  so  much  as 
a  fresh  sign.  Never  then  be  so  sure  of  getting  buffalo 
anywhere,  that  you  do  not  make  arrangements  to  have 
one  or  two  dependable  natives  gathering  information  for 
you,  going  out  themselves  to  look  for  sign,  in  some  other 
locality,  on  which  you  can  fall  back,  in  case  of  failure. 

At  most  of  the  government  stations  there  are  such  na- 
tives, kept  in  government  employ.  The  district  commis- 
sioner will  always  oblige  you  with  their  services.  They 
cost  little  and  may  prove  of  great  value  to  you.  Before 


134  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

I  leave  the  subject,  let  me  say  one  thing  more  about  these 
dark  skinned  fellow  helpers  of  a  day.  Invite  them  to 
your  big  central  fire  in  the  evening,  and  as  you  all  draw 
round  the  welcome  blaze,  have  an  interpreter  up  and  talk 
to  them.  How  many  interesting  things  you  will  hear, 
about  them,  their  plans,  their  hopes,  their  discontents  and 
wrongs,  and,  some  none  less  interesting  things  you  may 
learn,  about  yourself,  and  your  fellow  countrymen.  The  na- 
tive helper,  when  he  is  employed,  is  often,  in  sefari  life,  shoved 
to  one  side  as  soon  as  his  bit  of  information  has  been  had 
from  him.  In  your  camp  he  is  almost  sure  to  be  without 
kith  or  kin,  unless  he  has  bargained  for  a  companion  of 
his  tribe,  to  bear  him  company.  Remember,  you  are  his 
host.  It  will  indeed  pay  any  traveller  well  to  take  some 
time  and  pains  to  draw  these  casual  companions  out, 
make  them  feel  at  home,  and  let  them  see  you  are  not 
visiting  their  country  simply  and  solely  to  get  something 
that  is  partly  theirs,  at  as  little  cost  to  yourself  as  it  may 
be  had. 

I  remember  three  Massai,  we  once  had,  to  guide  us  to 
a  thickly  wooded  haunt  of  buffalo,  where  other  sportsmen 
had  met  with  success.  Our  start  from  the  government  boma 
was  not  very  auspicious.  We  had  with  some  difficulty 
procured  a  tent  for  them,  the  rains  just  then  were  very  heavy, 
The  tent  did  not  weigh,  poles  and  all,  more  than  ten  pounds, 
but  they  promptly  refused  to  carry  it.  (Massai  will  seldom 
carry  any  load  but  a  gun.)  Well,  we  started  without  the 
tent,  for  all  the  porters  were  loaded.  Soon  after  camping, 
some  four  hours  out,  the  downpour  commenced.  Where- 
upon the  three  came  and  wanted  to  know  where  they  were 
to  go  out  of  the  rain.  We  arranged  a  shelter  for  them 
beside  the  loads,  under  a  big  ground  sheet.  Next  day, 
close  to  our  second  camp  we  found  a  Massai  munyata  * 

*  Temporary  village — ^wattle  houses  daubed  with  cow  dung,  built  in  a  circle  usually  depended 
by  a  high  thorn  fence. 


HUNTING  IN  AFRICA  135 

breaking  camp  in  much  excitement.  Two  lions  had  jumped 
the  high  thorn  boma,  landed  in  the  middle  of  the  packed 
herd,  and,  of  course,  stampeded  the  lot.  The  maddened 
beasts  burst  their  way  through  the  double  fence  of  wattle 
houses  and  thorn  barriers,  and  were  at  the  mercy  of  the 
lions.  Two  of  them  were  quickly  pulled  down,  one  of  these 
was  carried  into  the  long  grass,  some  two  hundred  yards 
away,  and  there  was  devoured  at  leisure.  From  the  other, 
the  Massai  with  spears  and  fire  drove  the  lion  off.  This 
all  happened  in  the  early  morning,  and  when  we  came  up, 
the  Massai  had  bled  the  bullock,  and  carefully,  as  they 
do,  preserved  the  blood  for  drinking. 

Now  we  were  out  of  meat,  and  so  tried  to  buy  that 
bullock's  fat  hunk..  No,  they  would  not  sell.  But  our 
three  moran  (warriors)  brought  along  with  them  an  appe- 
tizing shoulder  and  brisket.  They  had  their  potio,  as 
was  their  due,  that  night,  but  though  they  ate  that,  they 
kept  their  beef  and  offered  us  nothing.  Next  day  I  had 
a  most  interesting  talk  with  one  of  them,  and  learned 
from  my  "warrior"  more  about  their  customs  and 
views  on  things  in  general,  than  I  had  been  able  to  pick 
up  in  eight  months'  previous  travel.  When  dinner  time 
came  the  fat  brisket  was  set  to  roast  on  a  stick  leaning 
over  the  coals.  I  noticed  a  brief  consultation  going  on 
among  the  three,  and  then  one  of  them  said,  "We  have 
eaten  your  potio,  this  is  good  meat,  take  half."  That 
evening  was  an  interesting  one.  We  sat  and  chatted  and 
explained  things  all  round,  tried  to  make  them  say  "Oryx," 
(natives  find  the  x  sound  almost  impossible),  while  they, 
in  turn,  defeated  us  with  their  gutturals.  Before  we 
turned  in,  they  made  an  evidently  sincere  request  that 
when  buffalo  had  come  back  and  the  rains  were  over,  we 
would  give  them  another  chance  of  guiding  us  to  where 
we  should  find  a  big  head.  Very  intelligent,  with  a  certain 
dash  of  independence,  that  other  natives  lack,  I  always 


136 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 


find  them.  I  am  sure  Mr.  Shauffaker*  is  right  in  saying, 
that  if  he  can  but  secure  their  alliance,  if  he  can  gain  the 
confidence  of  the  Massai,  more  can  be  done  with  them, 
than  with  any  East  African  people. 

*  Mr.  Shauffaker  and  his  brave  and  capable  wife  —  aided  by  two  deaconnesses,  all  Americans  — 
are  members  of  the  African  Inland  Missionary  Society.  Mr.  Hurlbut  is  chief  organizer  and  head  of 
that  society  in  British  East  Africa  of  able  ,  sensible,  and  devoted  men.  If  any  can  succeed  in  mastering 
the  immense  difficulties  of  this  situation,  these  people  surely  will.  They  build  their  own  houses. 
Live  on  next  to  nothing  —  and  seemed  to  me  the  most  practical  and  level  headed  men  and  women 
(missionaries)  I  met  in  the  country.  The  civil  authorities  of  the  Protectorate,  enthusiastically  wel- 
come their  aid  and  value  their  opinions. 


CHAPTER  VI 

SEFARI  LIFE 

HOWEVER  reluctant  you  may  be  to  leave  your  com- 
fortable camp  bed,  it  is  well  to  force  yourself  to 
rigorously  maintain  the  habit  of  early  rising. 

The  first  hours  of  the  morning  are  far  the  best  of  the 
day,  are  indeed  an  unmixed  delight. 

If  you  are  on  the  plain,  all  the  world  shines  with  a  sil- 
very glitter  as  the  first  level  sunbeams  fall  on  the  dew. 
The  tough-jointed  stem  of  the  grass  carries  a  heavy  and 
bushy  head;  when  you  press  through,  it  may  reach  to  your 
waist,  or  even  to  the  shoulders,  and  every  several  head  will 
seem  to  carry,  for  your  special  discomfiture,  not  less  than 
a  cup  full  of  icy  water. 

Take  the  plunge,  if  you  are  afoot,  as  quickly  as  you  may. 
No  clothing  devised  by  man  will  keep  you  dry  for  ten 
minutes.  But  there  are  compensations.  In  two  hours' 
time  you  will  be  dry  and  warm  again.  Meanwhile,  if  you 
have  eyes  in  your  head,  and  will  but  look  before  you,  you 
will  see,  spread  for  your  delight,  such  a  play  of  sunshine 
on  the  steamy  vapours,  such  a  wonderland  of  silvery  crys- 
tal, with  miniature,  iridescent  rainbows  everywhere  peep- 
ing in  and  out  of  it,  as  no  man  ever  looked  on,  out  of  Africa. 

The  plunge  is  cold,  but  it  is  a  plunge  into  a  veritable 
silvery  sea;  and  yet  "silvery"  fails  to  convey  any  idea  of 
the  clearness  and  radiance  of  its  beauty. 

If  the  sun  is  still  low  in  the  heavens  at  your  back,  the 
grass  wears  a  shining  halo  round  the  long-thrown  shadow  of 
your  head  and  shoulders  as  you  move  along.  You  might 
fee  a  mighty  Gulliver,  striding,  waist  high,  above  the  forests 

137 


138  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

of  Lilliput,  that  spread,  beneath  your  feet,  their  miniature 
but  inexhaustible  beauty.  You  are  in  the  elfin  land  of 
the  dew,  where  Queen  Titania  still  rules  supreme,  and  Puck 
plays  pranks  on  human  fancy. 

Look  well  at  it,  and  drink  in  its  beauty.  For,  like  life's 
best  things,  it  will  have  vanished,  before  you  are  aware,  and 
you  will  find  yourself,  an  ordinary  mortal,  pushing  your  way 
under  a  hot  sun,  through  obstinately  tough  grass,  with  noth- 
ing to  requite  you  for  the  lost  visions  of  the  morning,  but  a 
pair  of  rapidly  drying  legs. 

The  woods  during  those  early  hours  are  deliciously  cool 
and  fragrant.  Every  fern,  nestling  among  the  knees  of  the 
trees,  or  climbing  and  clinging,  as  they  beautifully  do,  on  to 
the  long,  mossy  branches,  sparkles  as  the  dew-drops  still  rest 
on  them.  Early  morning  is  a  very  quiet  time,  in  the  woods 
and  on  the  veldt.  The  early  twittering  of  the  birds,  which 
greeted  the  dawning,  is  soon  over.  The  frogs  and  crickets  — 
which  always  make  most  noise,  take  rest,  tired  by  the  con- 
tinuous chorus  of  the  night.  Watch  and  ward  among  the 
beasts  of  the  wild,  has  been  kept  all  night  long.  The  bark- 
ing call  of  the  bushbuck  to  his  mate,  the  strange,  cough- 
ing bark  by  which  the  sentinel  zebra  signals  danger,  all 
have  ceased  now.  If  you  sit  down,  glass  in  hand,  and  watch 
the  herds,  you  will  see  them  feed  for  a  little  while,  and  then, 
choosing  a  safe  place,  lie  quietly  down. 

The  tension  of  the  long  tropic  night  is  over,  in  the  day- 
light they  know  themselves  safe.  Now,  and  during  the  hour 
before  dark,  is  the  best  time  to  study  the  wild  things,  great 
and  small. 

I  have  seen  a  band  of  lions  come  sauntering  along  in 
single  file,  on  their  way  to  the  reed  bed  by  the  river,  when, 
till  nightfall,  they  will  make  their  retreat  in  perfect  security. 
The  feeding  or  resting  herds  of  zebra,  kongoni  or  Grant, 
divide  slowly  and  casually,  as  it  were,  to  let  them  pass. 
Neither  the  lions  nor  their  prey  pay  much  attention  one 


SEFARI  LIFE  139 

to  the  other,  each  recognizing  the  day  time  as  the  time 
of  nature's  truce.  The  swift  have  no  need  to  flee,  the  fierce 
no  wish  to  pursue.  Each  goes  about  his  business  till  the 
evening.  But  when  once  darkness  has  fallen  over  the 
plain,  at  the  first  deep  guttural  roar  of  the  lion,  you  can 
hear,  though  miles  away,  the  tumult  of  retreat,  into  which 
that  dreaded  signal  throws  them. 

Be  sure  and  make  good  use  of  those  first,  fresh  hours, 
there  are  none  others  like  them.  To  start  early  from  camp, 
and  to  get  back  early,  is  a  golden  rule  in  Africa.  Arrange 
your  personal  matters  the  night  before.  Leave  nothing 
to  be  done  at  the  last  moment  in  the  morning.  He  who 
is  hunting  round,  then,  perhaps  in  the  semi-darkness,  for 
cartridges,  compass,  knife,  who  calls  to  his  tentboy  to  see 
that  his  saddle  bags  are  in  order,  is  almost  sure  to  leave 
something  important  behind.  Here  let  me  suggest  a  plan 
to  others,  which  I,  a  man  with  the  poorest  of  memories 
have  found  to  work  admirably.  Have  your  sefari  clothes 
made  with  large,  and  very  numerous  pockets,  all  of  them 
covered  with  buttoning  flaps.  Let  each  indispensable 
thing  have,  and  always  keep,  its  own  special  pocket  — 
compass,  whistle,  tobacco,  and  pipe,  measuring  tape,  knife, 
matches,  note-book  —  biscuits  and  chocolate,  syringe  and 
permanganate  of  potash,  bandage,  lint,  and  string,  always 
carried  in  your  saddle  bags.  Keep  these  indispensables 
there  during  the  day.  Leave  them  always  there  during 
the  night.  Put  on  your  clothes  in  the  morning,  and  there 
you  are.  This  saves  the  unforgivable  on  sefari,  keeping 
others  waiting,  till  temper  is  lost  or  strained. 

There  are  really  a  great  many  things  to  be  seen  to, 
before  you  start  for  the  day,  and  the  uncertain  light  of 
early  morning  is  not  a  good  time  to  see  to  them.  There 
is,  on  the  other  hand,  plenty  of  time  in  the  evening.  See 
to  them  then. 

A    prompt    start    at    or   before    sunrise    has    another 


i4o  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

advantage;  it  enables  you  to  return  early,  and  to  avoid 
too  much  of  the  midday  or  early  afternoon  sun. 

From  noon  till  three  o'clock,  many  will  find  the  heat 
exhausting  and  the  fagged  out  man,  is  not  usually  the  best 
of  company  in  camp. 

Now  one  of  the  things  most  worth  sacrificing  something 
for,  when  you  are  camping  for  months  in  the  same  com- 
pany, and  cannot  get  away  from  it,  or  it  from  you,  is  a 
cheerful  atmosphere,  a  life  of  give  and  take,  a  steadfast 
avoidance  of  all  friction,  even  of  little  differences  on 
points  unimportant. 

There  is  very  much  to  try  a  good  temper,  in  sefari  life, 
much  to  strain  and  worry  even  a  placid  disposition.  If 
things  are  to  move  smoothly  for  all  parties,  try  to  get  rid  of 
your  ill-humours,  when  you  must  have  them,  in  the  open. 
Work  them  off  outside.  Do  not  visit  them  on  your  men  or 
your  friend.  Surely  the  success  of  a  trip  is  not  to  be  meas- 
ured by  the  trophies  taken,  only,  but,  at  least  as  much,  by 
the  memory  of  beautiful  things  seen  and  arduous  things 
done,  in  the  pleasant  company  of  others.  A  witty  man 
I  know,  as  he  stood  at  his  country  house  door,  and  bade 
good  luck  to  some  of  his  guests  packed  for  a  day's  ride  in 
his  automobile,  said:  "I  do  not  think  I  can  give  you  any 
better  advice  than  that  Joseph  gave  to  his  sons,  when  they 
were  starting  for  Egypt.  "See  that  ye  fall  not  out  by  the 
way."  Well,  on  sefari  not  to  do  so  means  forbearance  and 
allowance  made. 

Carry  a  few  good  books.  When  you  feel  out  of  sorts, 
turn  to  them.  There  are  so  many  things  one  wants  to  know 
in  life,  and  that  one  never  can  get  time  to  learn.  And  there 
are  so  many  others  that  once  we  knew  and  remembered, 
but  have  in  part  or  in  whole  forgotten,  that  it  is  a  demoral- 
izing waste  of  time  to  hang  round  the  camp  doing  nothing, 
reading  nothing,  thinking  nothing,  often  watching  noth- 
ing, no  recreation  but  killing  things.  Such  a  life  does  no 


1 .  Camp.    Early  morning 

2.  Camp  at  Eldama  Ravine  on  the  edge  of  the  Mau  forest 


SEFARI  LIFE 


141 


man  much  good  —  and  yet,  many  live  it.  They  are  like 
the  poor  old  "chaw  bacon"  who  sat  hour  after  hour,  day 
after  day,  by  his  cottage  fire.  "What  do  you  do  sitting 
there  for  so  long,  saying  nothing?"  "Well,  sometimes  I 
sits  and  thinks,  and  sometimes  I  just  sits."  A  man  is 
easier  to  live  with,  for  having  kept  company  for  an  hour  or 
two  with  some  of  those,  who,  being  dead,  yet  lead  us  and 
teach  us. 

There  are  certain  things  one  is  accustomed  to,  at  home, 
which  are  better  left  off,  here.  Cold  baths,  are  unfortu- 
nately among  the  number.  I  suppose  a  very  young  and  strong 
man  could  enjoy  his  cold  tub  with  impunity  for  a  time,  but 
certain  it  is,  that  no  one,  no  matter  how  hardy,  who  has 
been  long  on  the  veldt,  can  take  one.  Just  now  we  are 
nursing  my  friend's  hunter,  who  came  down  three  days 
ago  with  a  violent  chill.  We  had  to  cross  our  mules  over 
a  river,  running  in  flood.  There  had  been  heavy  snow  falls, 
in  Kenia,  and  the  snow  water  loses  most  of  its  chill,  soon 
as  it  leaves  the  woodland  border  of  the  mountain.  Still, 
for  African  water  it  was  cold.  The  mules  had  to  swim,  and 
in  getting  them  over,  he  was,  perhaps,  for  ten  minutes,  waist 
deep.  A  hundred  and  five  degrees  of  temperature  is  a  heavy 
price  to  pay  for  a  cold  bath  —  yet  he  is  young  and  hardy. 
One  friend  of  mine  I  persuaded  to  give  up  the  luxury  of  his 
cold  douche,  till,  after  an  unusually  long  and  hot  march, 
having  had  time  to  thoroughly  cool  off,  he  could  no  longer 
resist  the  clear  brown  water,  by  which  our  tents  were 
pitched.  He  came  down  that  night  with  a  heat  rash, 
that  made  next  day's  march  an  experience  he  is  never 
likely  to  forget.  Cold  water  is  enticing,  but  avoid  it,  and 
take  a  very  hot  bath  in  your  canvas  bath  tub,  with  a 
good  rub-down,  instead. 

Be  always  careful  to  look  for  signs  of  crocodiles,  even 
on  small  rivers,  and  warn  your  sefari  to  be  careful;  the 


i42  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

men  are  as  careless  as  children,  and  even  a  nine-foot  crock 
can  take  a  man  down  and  drown  him. 

When  I  came  to  the  country  first,  the  cool  water,  when 
I  could  find  it,  after  the  hot  day,  was  a  temptation  not  to 
be  resisted.  One  evening  I  went  to  bathe  in  a  brown  pool, 
overhung  by  a  broad-limbed  fig  tree,  on  the  Athi  River.  I 
sat  myself  down  in  a  bend  of  the  lower  branch,  arranged  my 
clothes  and  towels,  and  dropped  quietly  into  about  five  feet  of 
water.  I  landed  on  a  rough  sort  of  rock,  as  it  seemed,  and 
was  proceeding  to  duck  my  head,  when  the  rock  began  to 
move  away!  I  made  the  jump  of  my  life,  back  to  where 
my  clothes  were.  I  never  went  into  a  river  since,  unless  I 
had  to  swim  or  ford  it  with  mule  or  horse,  and  then  was 
careful  to  see  what  sort  of  "sign"  the  bank  showed  above 
and  below.  One  of  the  settlers  living  on  Donyea  Sabuk, 
near  Narobi,  told  me  a  few  days  ago  that  one  of  his  "boys" 
had  been  taken  by  a  crocodile,  while  washing  clothes  in  the 
stream,  quite  near  the  place  where  I  had  my  own  start- 
ling experience.  My  moving  platform  may,  of  course,  have 
been  a  large  river  tortoise,  but  I  did  not  wait  to  make  sure. 
There  is  nothing  in  all  Africa  so  repulsive  to  my  mind  as  a 
"crock."*  The  Athi,  I  found  afterward,  is  full  of 
crocodiles. 

It  is  well  to  wash  hands  and  face  in  warm  water,  soon 
as  you  return  to  camp,  especially  when  you  have  been  hunt- 
ing, crawling  in  grass,  brushing  through  scrub,  handling 
live  or  dead  game,  you  constantly  touch  many  kinds  of 
poisonous  plants,  thorns,  and  insects.  The  juices  of  sev- 
eral common  creepers  are  highly  poisonous,  and  a  hand 
soiled  by  them,  drawn  across  a  sweating  forehead,  or 

*  Crocodiles  are  often  very  destructive  to  native  life.  But  this  is  so  cheaply  held  that  small  account 
is  taken  of  its  loss.  The  native  women  themselves,  who  are  chief  sufferers,  are  most  careless  of  all. 
One  hideous  maneater,  made  his  haunt  near  a  shallow,  where  the  women  came  to  do  their  washing. 
A  railroad  bridge  spanned  the  little  river  there  and  under  its  shadow  the  evil  monster  lay  in  wait.  A 
friend  of  mine  saw  a  woman  taken  down  there  one  day.  He  assured  me  that  within  half  an  hour  all 
her  companions  were  back,  washing  in  the  same  place,  spite  of  all  he  could  say.  After  much  difficulty 
he  had  that  "crock"  snared.  And  out  of  its  belly  he  took  twenty-four  pounds  weight  of  womens 
bangles!  The  beast  must  have  eaten  more  than  thirty  persons. 


SEFARI  LIFE  143 

rubbed  into  the  corner  of  your  eye,  may  bring  a  severe 
inflammation.  The  men's  eyes  and  skin  are  often  badly 
inflamed  from  this  cause,  and  they  are  much  tougher,  in  such 
matters,  than  we  are. 

When  you  are  on  elevated  plateaus,  such  as  Laikipia, 
or  Nzoia,  you  will  find  no  insect  life,  to  trouble  you  much; 
but  when  you  descend  or  are  hunting  the  country  nearer 
Nairobi,  or  near  the  Athi,  Theka,  or  Tana  rivers,  or,  if  you 
visit  the  fine  hunting  country  near  Megardi,  and  pass  toward 
the  German  line,  you  must  prepare  yourself  carefully,  to 
ward  off  poisonous  insects,  of  several  kinds.  In  these 
lands  never  wear  slippers  in  the  evening  or  morning,  and 
under  no  circumstances  permit  your  men  to  place  your 
tent,  or  theirs,  if  you  can  help  it,  on  the  site  of  old 
encampments. 

Jigger  fleas  abound,  and  the  jigger  is  a  terror!  He  is 
so  tiny,  it  is  hard  to  see  him,  and  even  when  he  has  taken  up 
his  home  and  established  his  family  in  your  toe,  his  only 
mark  is  an  infinitesimal  speck  on  the  skin,  spite  of  the  horrid 
irritation,  you  cannot  see  anything.  At  last  a  small  red 
spot  appears,  and,  if  your  tentboy  is  skilful,  he  will  cut  a 
splinter  of  hardwood,  and  root  at  your  foot,  till  he  shows 
you,  beneath  that  red  spot,  a  sack  the  size  of  a  marrowfat 
pea.  This  he  carefully  removes,  not  on  any  account  break- 
ing it,  or  causing  the  opening  to  bleed,  see  it  put  in  the 
fire,  not  thrown  on  the  ground,  and  rub  some  disinfectant 
in.  This  is  not,  I  fear,  a  pleasant  description,  nor  is  the 
job  any  pleasanter,  but  it  must  be  done,  and  done  thor- 
oughly, or  you  may  find  yourself  unable  to  walk  for  weeks. 
Wear  long,  light,  mosquito  canvas,  boots,  round  camp  of  an 
evening.  You  can  get  them  at  any  outfitters  in  London, 
or  at  the  Citadel  Stores,  Cairo,  where,  by  the  way,  you  will 
find,  if  you  are  introduced,  an  admirable  assortment  of 
camping  fixtures,  more  complete  and  quite  as  cheap,  as 
anywhere  in  London. 


144  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Accustom  yourself  to  sleeping  always  under  a  net. 
All  good  tents,  and  there  are  none  better  in  the  world  than 
Edgington's,  2  Duke  Street,  London  Bridge,  have  strings 
so  arranged  that  your  net  doesn't  close  down  on  you;  take 
an  extra  net  with  you,  they  will  tear  and  stretch,  and  they 
weigh  nothing.  You  may  not  notice  many  mosquitoes 
when  you  camp,  but  round  you,  are  lying,  some  scores  of 
men,  whose  blood,  in  very  many  cases,  is  infected  with  the 
malarial  microbe  —  one  "Anopheles"  will  do  the  business; 
and  even  a  slight  attack  of  fever  is  a  nuisance,  and  may 
seriously  spoil  your  trip.  There  are,  too,  many  sorts  of 
flying  and  crawling  things  that  seem  to  let  themselves 
loose  in  the  night.  Inside  a  well-set  net,  you  are  free  from 
them.  The  only  night  visitor  that  thoroughly  defeated 
me  was  a  rat.  He  crawled  inside  my  net  and  gnawed  my 
ear,  till  he  awoke  me.  I  clapped  my  hand  to  my  head, 
when  he  ran  down  my  back.  I  had  a  bad  scare  then,  for  I 
feared  a  snake,  and  could  only  shout  for  John,  and  tear  my 
clothes  off.  We  never  caught  him,  after  all.  When  you 
are  in  Massai  land,  and  mosquitoes  are  rare,  you  will  often, 
during  the  day  time,  take  tobacco,  books,  writing  mate- 
rials —  everything  —  into  your  bed,  and  there  and  there 
only,  escape  the  crawling,  sticking,  greasy,  housefly,  that  in 
thousands  and  thousands  literally  tries  to  eat  you,  during 
the  sunny  hours. 

After  the  rains  are  over,  in  the  lower  country,  every 
second  blade  of  long,  strong,  green  grass,  supports,  near 
its  crown,  a  tick,  some  so  small  you  can  scarcely  see  them, 
some  lusty  and  flat.  They  crawl  into  the  creases  of  your 
clothes,  up  your  legs,  and  down  your  back,  and  are  a  very 
serious  drawback  to  any  enjoyment,  whatever.  Their 
bite  is  irritating,  to  all,  and  highly  poisonous,  to  some.  Where 
they  are  bad,  horses  die  from  their  persecution,  unless  the 
poor  beasts  are  constantly  and  carefully  freed  from  them. 
I  hunted  once,  on  the  Athi  River,  for  three  weeks,  in  May. 


SEFARI  LIFE 

The  rains  were  over  early,  that  year,  the  grass  was  rich  and 
long,  and  the  ticks  were  there  in  strength.  I  had  John 
pick  me  clean,  three  and  four  times  a  day;  took  hot  baths, 
with  Condy's  fluid  in  them,  used  every  means  I  knew  to 
ward  them  off,  and  reduce  the  fever  of  the  bite.  But  I  had 
a  most  uncomfortable  time,  and  lost  much  sleep. 

After  the  grass  is  burned,  or  when  the  country  is  thor- 
oughly dry,  ticks  are  not  so  bad.  But  my  advice  is:  don't 
go  down  into  the  Athi  River  country  till  the  grass  fires  are 
over.  A  friend  of  mine  came  back  to  Nairobi  and  lay  in 
hospital  there  for  months,  as  the  result  of  taking  up  work 
on  the  Athi  during  the  rains. 

One  of  the  pleasures  of  sefari  life,  as  I  have  found  it, 
is  getting  to  know  the  men.  It  takes  time,  but  nothing  pays 
better  in  the  long  run.  I  have  never  found  any  men,  any- 
where, quicker  to  appreciate  a  little  personal  interest, 
than  are  these  black  companions  of  our  pleasures  and  dan- 
gers. Easily  contented  are  they,  and  surely  very  patient, 
under  circumstances  no  white  man  would  endure.  In  little 
clubs  they  tent  together,  five  to  seven  in  number;  covered, 
in  rain  and  shine,  by  a  tiny  Americani*  tent,  of  the  value 
of  seven  rupees. 

The  tent  lets  the  heat  in,  and  though  it  is  sure  to  be 
cunningly  pitched,  will  not,  for  very  long,  withstand  the 
torrential  rain.  Stretch  it,  trench  it  as  you  may,  an  African 
torrent  shower,  floods  its  floor.  Most  of  these  black  folk 
have  fever  in  their  bones,  and  a  soaking  night,  when  the 
rain  is  cold,  will  often  bring  a  large  number  down  with  it. 
When  the  white  man  has  malaria,  he  stays  in  his  warm, 
dry  tent,  wrapped  in  warm  blankets,  and  carefully  supplied 
with  warm  drinks  he  brings  on  perspiration,  then  quinine, 
etc.,  etc.,  while  all  the  sefari  waits  anxiously  on  his  recovery. 

*  The  cotton  cloth  used  everywhere  in  East  Africa  is  made  in  the  United  States.     Hence  its 
name  Americani. 


i46  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

But  these  poor  fellows  must  face  their  daily  march,  and, 
with  sixty  pounds  on  aching  heads,  keep  up, as  best  they  may. 

Soon  as  your  tent  is  pitched,  and  wood  and  water  have 
come  in,  tell  the  headman  to  call  to  you  all  who  need 
"dowa"  (medicine)  —  let  it  be  understood  at  once  that  you 
will  doctor  their  ills  to  the  best  of  your  ability,  and  that 
you  will  do  so  at  a  certain  time,  and  your  clinic  will  soon 
be  fairly  under  way.  When  they  come,  let  them  tell  their 
roundabout  story  in  their  own  way.  They  often  bear, 
uncomplainingly,  very  severe  pain,  that  they  have  had  to 
grow  accustomed  to,  while  they  make  a  fuss  over  a  trifle. 
They  will  fearlessly  and  skilfully  use  a  knife  themselves  — 
often  a  dirty-bladed  one  —  in  cutting  out  a  thorn ;  but  most  of 
them  grow  evidently  nervous  if  you  have  to  produce  a  small 
lancet.  We  had  a  gunbearer  mauled  by  a  lion.  He  made  no 
outcry  when  the  great  teeth  cut  his  arm  and  leg,  he  stoically 
endured,  for  six  weeks,  the  pain  of  dressing,  twice  daily; 
but  when  a  medical  missionary  produced  a  lancet,  in  order 
to  open  one  of  the  great  fang  wounds,  which  had  too  soon 
superficially  closed,  though  he  was  reduced  to  a  skeleton, 
and  had  never  been  without  a  temperature  for  six  weeks, 
he  vaulted  like  a  flash  over  the  veranda  railing  where  we 
were  sitting,  and  distanced,  over  a  very  rough  ground,  too, 
a  good  runner  who  tried  to  catch  him.  Strained  sinews 
and  muscles,  boils  and  blanes,  fever,  and  above  all,  the 
natural  and  inevitable  consequences  of  eating  too  much 
meat  when  they  can  get  it,  and  eating  it  almost  raw  (indeed 
they  never  cook  any  food  enough),  these  are  their  most 
common  ills.  Epsom  salts,  chlorodyne,  in  addition  to  a 
"Burroughs  and  Welcome"  medicine  chest,  will  be  found 
useful  to  have  at  hand. 

Give  them  time,  and  close  attention,  when  they  come 
before  you,  with  their  disputes  and  grievances  —  you  owe 
them  so  much,  at  least  —  and  their  point  of  view  is  often 
very  interesting,  and  instructive,  too.  They  have  not, 


1.  Head  porter  (Wanyamwazi).      Carried  from  85  to  98  pounds  each  day 

for  five  months 

2.  Little  John  Connop,  my  tentboy,  holding  a  reed-buck's  head 

3.  Porter.      Winding  his  blanket  into  a  turban  before  starting 

4.  My  gunboy  —  going  to  town 


SEFARI  LIFE 

as  yet  —  no,  not  even  in  English  territory  —  a  dawn- 
ing perception  of  their  rights,  as  these  may  exist,  against  a 
white  man.  Momba's  saying,  as  he  looked  at  a  picture, 
gave  well  the  native  point  of  view:  "The  white  man  is 
like  God  —  he  can  do  what  he  likes."  If  they  are  unfairly 
deprived  of  potio,  or  unjustly  kobokoed,  they  may  run 
away,  but,  even  if  they  do,  they  make  no  reprisals,  and  are 
sure  to  leave  their  load  behind  them.  They  seldom  make 
a  complaint  against  the  white  wrongdoer. 

One  thing  they  strenuously  object  to,  that  is  a  reduction 
in  their  potio,  and  each  tribe  wants  —  when  it  can  be  got  — 
its  own  sort  of  meal.  The  government,  I  think,  has  made 
a  mistake  in  entering  on  sefari  regulations  an  order  to  get 
rice  potio.  Rice  is  sometimes  not  obtainable,  and  is  even 
then  excessively  dear.  Moreover,  rice  can  not  be  at  present 
grown  in  the  English  Protectorate.  Now  good  mealie 
meal,  well  ground,  is  quite  as  nutritious,  and  not  nearly  so 
costly,  and  can  be  grown  everywhere.  Were  its  cultivation 
encouraged,  much  more  grain  would  be  raised,  and  money 
now  going  in  very  large  sums  to  German  growers  (for  all  the 
rice  comes  from  German  East  Africa)  would  come  to  natives* 
living  comparatively  nearby,  whose  success  in  selling  their 
crop  could  not  fail  to  have  an  encouraging  effect  on  those 
other  natives  who,  sooner  or  later,  must  cultivate  the  land 
in  order  to  live,  but  who  have  not  yet  had  the  courage  to 
change  their  method  of  living,  and  make  a  beginning  as 
cultivators. 

This  subject  of  potio  is  a  very  serious  one,  indeed  the 
all-important  one,  and  needs  further  explanation.  All 
I  will  say  here  is,  look  ahead;  don't  put  your  sefari  on  half- 
rations,  unless  you  have  to.  When  you  do,  explain  every- 
thing to  the  men,  so  that  they  all  understand  that  your  action 
is  not  the  result  of  niggardliness  on  your  part.  Under  such 
circumstances  I  have  always  found  them  most  reasonable. 

*  I  understand  this  change  has  been  made  since  I  wrote. 


148  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  many,  many  sportsmen  are  both 
ignorant  and  unreasonable.  They  blunder  along  any  way, 
caring  nothing  for  their  men,  knowing  nothing  of  them; 
trusting  to  some  intermediary,  some  hired  hunter  or  ser- 
vant, to  look  after  the  wants  of  the  sefari,  no  provision  for 
serious  sickness,  no  extra  porters  for  an  emergency,  no 
previous  arrangement  about  base  of  supplies.  Their  own 
"chop  boxes "  are  filled,  their  own  food  certain.  They  seem 
to  care  for  little  else.  Most  of  the  pain  and  discontent 
they  cause  is  dumb;  no  outcry  reaches  them,  and  so  they 
pass  on  their  way.  "The  hunting  was  good,  but  as  to  the 
natives,  they  are  a  discontented,  thieving  set,  they  are 
glad  to  be  rid  of  them." 

Another  thing  that  needs  looking  after,  from  time  to 
time,  is  the  loading  of  the  porters.  Carry  a  spring  weigh- 
ing machine,  and  now  and  then  weigh  the  loads  yourself. 
Some,  otherwise  good,  headmen  show  favouritism,  they 
are  only  human;  you  are  your  porters  only  protection  against 
a  possibly  unfair  discrimination.  If  you,  yourself,  see,  just 
now  and  then,  that  the  loads  are  fairly  divided,  there  will  be 
no  need,  whatever,  for  you  to  be  constantly  questioning  your 
headman's  judgment,  for  he,  as  well  as  every  man  in  your 
company,  will  recognize,  that  you  mean  to  allow  no  favour- 
itism, and  fair  play  will  be  the  rule. 

When  several  days'  potio  has  been  served  to  the  sefari, 
it  is  always  worth  while  to  look  sharply  at  the  toto's  loads. 
This  is  the  time  when  the  poor  little  fellows  are  likely  to 
be  cruelly  overloaded.  If  you  find  one  in  such  a  case, 
take  off  his  extra  burden,  and  put  it  on  the  man  or  men 
who  hired  him.  This  always  has  an  excellent  effect,  and 
saves  constant  "koboko,"  which  is  a  mistake.  See,  by  the 
way,  when  you  are  paying  off  your  sefari,  that  the  totos 
on  it  are  paid  then  and  there.  The  men  disperse,  in  a  few 
moments,  they  are  soon  lost  in  the  bazaar.  I  have  had  to 
go  to  much  trouble,  more  than  once,  to  have  a  poor  little 


SEFARI  LIFE  149 

cheated  toto  paid  his  dues,  because  I  neglected  to  see  his 
very  petty  cash,  handed  over  to  him,  on  the  spot.  When  you 
buy  potio,  see  the  loads  weighed  yourself,  before  paying 
for  them.  Do  this  on  the  men's  account,  quite  as  much  as 
your  own.  So  many  loads  mean  so  many  days  food 
for  all  hands.  If  you  are  receiving  a  fifty  pound  load 
when  you  are  paying  for  a  sixty  pound,  and  this  is 
quite  common,  especially  when  dealing  at  outlying  bomas, 
with  Indian  traders,  your  men  may  find  themselves 
seriously  short.  And  the  shortage  may  come  when  the 
sefari  can  least  stand  it,  viz.,  toward  the  end  of  a  long 
trip,  when  all  are  heavily  laden,  and  you  are  in  a  country 
where  game  is  scarce. 

Oh,  there  are  so  many  things  I  found  myself  longing  to 
teach  these  men  of  mine.  Things  they  surely  needed  for 
their  well-being,  but  alas,  it  could  not  be.  For  ages  they 
have  gone  on  their  own  sad,  merry,  contented  way;  living 
like  jEsop's  cricket,  and  dying  so  young!  Going,  as  they 
say  themselves,  to  the  fece  (hyenas).  Missionary  work 
has  not  yet  influenced  them  (the  sefari  porters)  at  all. 
When  they  are  not  Mohammedan  they  are  nothing,  and 
their  Mohammedanism  is  the  thinnest  of  veneers.  English 
rule  has  stopped  bloodshed  in  their  home  lands,  and  may 
be  trusted  to  accomplish,  slowly,  what  English  rule  almost 
always  has  achieved,  the  betterment  of  the  natives'  condition. 
But  at  present,  unfortunately,  there  is  no  denying  the  fact 
(though  home  and  local  authorities  shut  their  eyes  fast  to  it) 
that  England's  coming  here  has  resulted  in  bringing  among 
comparatively  pure  native  stock  a  terrible  poison  that 
nothing  whatever  is  being  done  to  check  or  restrain. 
Another  grave  danger  to  the  natives'  wellbeing  arises 
from  the  perhaps,  sometimes,  necessary  breaking  down  of 
the  tribal  rule  and  law.  These  are  his  own  and  he  under- 
stands them,  and  we  take  them  from  him,  before  he  can 
possibly  understand  the  laws  we  force  him  to  obey.  His 


1 50  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

own  tribal  law  and  penal  code  are  often  pretty  good  things. 
They  work  well,  and  if  gradually  the  more  brutal  side  of 
them  were  toned  down,  the  native  would  understand, 
appreciate,  and  obey.  But  to  force  the  Indian*  penal  code 
on  Massai,  Kikuyu,  and  Nandi,  is  far  worse  than  to  ram  a 
tall  hat  on  a  Chinaman.  This  aspect  of  the  native  ques- 
tion, however,  is  too  serious  a  one  to  be  dragged  in  here. 
I  will  say  what  I  have  to  say  on  it  later  on. 

Walk  round  the  little  camp  fires,  as  cheerily  they  blaze 
up,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening.  It  is  a  good  way  to  get  to 
know  your  men.  Here  one  cries  out  to  you,  "Careboo" 
(come  and  eat  with  us) ;  but  this  intimate,  though  respect- 
ful salutation  you  will  not  hear,  till  the  sefari  has  shaken 
itself  together.  I  always  regarded  it  as  a  high  compliment, 
and  waited  by  the  fire  to  taste  of  the  pot. 

The  industries  of  the  sefari  are  various  and  interesting. 

Here  is  the  lace  maker.  Who  would  expect  to  find  so 
delicate  a  trade,  favoured  by  a  hulking  Wanyamwazi? 
But  several  men  in  the  ranks  are  probably  busy,  making 
the  lace  caps,  that  all  natives  put  a  high  store  by.  The 
materials  are  strong  and  expensive,  a  bit  of  good  white  linen, 
and  white  silk  thread  —  yes,  white,  and  in  some  wonderful 
way  kept  white,  even  during  all  the  vicissitudes  of  swampy 
marching  and  ubiquitous  grease.  The  instruments,  so 
far  as  I  could  discover  them,  only  a  fine  needle,  and  a  very 
finely  sharpened  bit  of  hard  wood.  The  linen  was  stretched 
on  a  little  drum. 

There  sits  the  snuff  maker.  He  carries  his  two  smooth 
stones,  somehow  or  other,  wherever  he  goes,  and  right 
good,  though  terribly  strong,  snuff  he  makes  from  native 
tobacco.  His  income,  though  small,  is  steady. 

Then  there  is  the  shoemaker  and  cobbler,  hard  at  work 
reducing  tough  eland  or  giraffe  (best  skin  of  all)  skin,  to 

*  Under  this  code  East  Africa  at  present  is  ruled.     It  would  be  hard  to  conceive  of  one  less  well 
adapted  to  the  natives'  needs. 


SEFARI  LIFE  151 

sandals.     The  men  willingly  pay  half  a  rupee  to  him  for 
a  pair,  and  they  supply  the  material. 

The  barber  is  in  a  class  by  himself;  among  all  the  trades 
he  seemed  to  me  to  claim  an  undeserved  preeminence. 
But  the  wonders  he  performs  with  a  sharp  hunting  knife 
are  beyond  me.  He  will  shave  three  to  six  completely 
accurately  drawn,  circles,  round  the  patient's  (sic)  head  - 
these  circles  are  half  to  three  quarters  of  an  inch  in  width 
and  are  as  regularly  drawn  as  though  the  great  man  used 
a  compass.  I  have  never  seen  him  draw  blood  —  no 
hedge-cutting,  shrub-trimming  Dutchman  in  Holland  ever 
produced,  on  his  favourite  greenery,  stranger  or  cleverer  por- 
trayals of  still  life,  or  animal  life,  than  the  sefari  barber 
cuts  off,  or  leaves  on,  or  makes  up,  in  a  native's  woolly  hair! 

The  sefari  doctor,  however,  is  important,  too.  If  you 
fail  the  men,  or  if  your  "dowa"  is  too  strong  (they  hate 
liquid  quinine  —  which  is,  of  course,  the  best  form  in  which 
to  give  the  drug  to  a  man  in  fever)  they  hie  them  to  him, 
and  pay  him  too.  The  compounding  of  his  medicine  he 
keeps  to  himself.  I  never  could  get  him  to  tell  me  any- 
thing. Speaking  of  doctoring,  I  found  that,  occasionally, 
the  men  suffered  much  from  toothache,  and  I  regretted 
that  I  hadn't  brought  along  a  forceps,  and  had  not  taken 
a  few  lessons  in  tooth  drawing. 

Hoey  (my  professional  hunter,  a  fine  fellow,  who  accom- 
panied me  on  my  late  trip,  when  I  rode  lions)  always  car- 
ried one,  and  as  he  was  very  muscular,  had  never  been 
beaten  by  even  a  back  grinder,  but  his  methods  seemed 
to  me  rather  forceful. 

I  learned  something  about  "my  boys"  as  I  strolled 
among  their  little  fires  of  an  evening.  I  was  surprised  at  the 
natives'  aptitude  for  industrial  work;  and  encouraging 
and  developing  this  is  surely  the  best  way  to  help  and 
elevate  him.  Practically  nothing  has  yet  been  attempted 
here,  and  all  work  in  iron,  wood,  and  stone  is  left  to  the 


152  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

inefficient  and  expensive  Hindus.  I  learned  to  honour  and 
esteem  many  of  them  for  what  I  saw  they  were  —  faithful, 
kindly  men,  living  honestly  up  to  the  light  given  them. 

There  was  an  immense  porter  I  had,  who  carried  the 
cook's  bath  —  this  description  may  be  misleading,  for 
nothing  that  I  could  do,  ever  succeeded  in  inducing  little 
Peter  to  wash  anything  but  his  hands,  but  his  bath  it  was 
called,  and  over  it  and  its  contents  he  exercised  a  despot's 
rule.  All  the  odds  and  ends  and  left  overs,  the  food  for 
the  next  hurried  meal,  sugar,  potatoes,  bacon,  and  Worces- 
tershire sauce  (I  may  as  well  stay  my  hand),  all  these, 
and  numberless  others,  were  ever  to  be  found  in  Peter's 
bath.  All  our  cooking  paraphernalia,  from  the  big  kettle 
to  the  iron  soup  ladle,  frying  pan,  coffee  pots,  baking  pans 
for  bread  and  the  like,  filled  high  up  this  immense  receptacle. 
The  most  awkward  and  unwieldy  load  in  the  sefari.  My 
big  porter  carried  this  load  always  at  the  head  of  the  sefari. 
The  moment  he  reached  camp  and  laid  his  burden  down, 
he  was  off  to  get  wood  for  the  cook's  fire  —  a  purely  volun- 
tary act  on  his  part.  For  the  cook's  boys,  not  the  head 
porter,  whose  rank  is  high  among  the  men,  has  this  allotted 
duty  to  perform.  He  marched  all  day  in  a  coat  that  fitted 
his  stalwart  six  feet  two  inches  well.  It  was  a  clerical  coat 
with  regulation  high  upstanding  collar,  buttoning  tightly 
across  the  breast.  Under  this  quite  non-tropical  and  very 
English  garment,  he  wore  the  regulation  porter's  sweater. 
This  was  on  the  march,  and  in  exceedingly  hot  weather! 

As  the  evening  fell  one  of  the  askaris  would  take  up, 
as  usual,  his  place  by  my  fire.  I  had  four  of  these  native 
soldiers,  their  height  varying  from  about  five  feet  nine  inches, 
to  five  feet.  Short  or  long,  these  gentlemen  invariably 
turned  up  clad  in  that  unmistakable  clerical  coat.  Its 
tails  dragging  on  the  ground  almost,  when  the  little  men 
stood  up. 

During  the  heat  of  the  day  its  owner  claimed  it.     Dur- 


SEFARI  LIFE 


153 


ing  the  night's  chill  he  invariably  loaned  it  to  the  man  whose 
duties  kept  him  outside.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  Chris- 
tian doctrine  of  universal  brotherhood,  but  a  true  giver  of 
the  cup  of  cold  water,  a  true  brother  of  his  black  fellow  man, 
most  surely  he  was. 

The  extraordinary  way  in  which  the  men  carry  all  sorts 
of  odds  and  ends  round  their  ragged  persons  without  los- 
ing them,  on  the  most  difficult  and  upsetting  marches,  is 
interesting.  Call  on  them  to  produce  them,  and  out  they 
come  from  the  most  unexpected  places.  I  was  well  accus- 
tomed to  this  proceeding,  when  we  engaged  some  Kara- 
mojo*  hunters  to  accompany  us,  for  I  had  been  many 
months  on  sefari,  but  these  men  puzzled  me.  They  were 
quite  naked,  a  few  narrow  iron  chains  and  strings  of  beads 
their  only  drapery,  yet  they  produced  snuff  and  one  or  two 
other  small  luxuries  on  the  march,  like  the  rest.  They 
carried  no  wallet  or  bag  of  any  sort.  Watching  them 
closely,  I  saw  them  tuck  their  "what  nots"  into  a  little  hol- 
low in  the  mud-plastered  chignon,  into  which  their  hair 
was  firmly  made  up  at  the  back  of  their  heads.  This  is 
the  usual  Karamojo  custom.  A  Massai  guide  we  had  for 
some  time,  carried,  as  all  self-respecting  Massai  who  are 
not  moran  (warriors)  do,  an  umbrella  —  among  them 
the  cotton  umbrella  seems  the  "cachet"  of  social  impor- 
tance. It  is  the  only  thing  they  have  borrowed  from  the 
white  man.  They  never  put  it  up,  so  far  as  I  could  see. 
You  see  them  running  at  a  tremendous  pace  alongside  a 
stampeding  band  of  their  excitable  cattle  to  head  them  off 
when  these  are  in  danger  of  "rushing"  a  sefari's  line.  A 
long  spear  in  one  hand,  an  umbrella  tucked  under  the  other 
arm,  neither  of  these,  to  all  appearance,  awkward  things, 
interferes  with  the  splendid  bounding  stride  that  carries  them 
over  all  inequalities  of  the  ground,  in  a  most  different  and 
thorny  country. 

*  An  interesting  tribe,  as  yet  almost  unknown. 


154  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Our  guide,  of  course,  carried  the  usual  umbrella.  We 
had  left  the  boma,  and  he,  on  the  strength  of  two  rupees* 
advance,  treated  himself  to  some  tea.  It  was  a  tiny  pack- 
age only,  and  was  wrapped  in  many  wrappings  of  dis- 
carded newspaper.  It  was  the  wet  season,  and  there  was 
a  daily  downpour,  so  he  carefully  tied  the  precious  pack- 
age to  the  point  of  his  umbrella,  outside. 

I  made  constant  and  quite  useless  efforts  to  restrain  the 
men's  gluttony.  My  best  porters  seldom  or  never  overate 
themselves.  But  some  of  the  biggest  and  strongest  were 
not  to  be  denied. 

The  Kavorondo,  who  live  near  the  lake,  signalized 
themselves  in  the  eating  line.  I  had  two  immense  fellows, 
who,  on  one  occasion,  ate  three  days'  potio,  i.  e.,  four  and  a 
half  pounds  of  good  mealie  meal  and  a  great  mass  of  fresh 
zebra  meat  (I  couldn't  weigh  it,  but  it  was  certainly  several 
pounds),  at  one  prolonged  sitting.  They  began  in  the  morn- 
ing and  kept  up  the  boiling  and  roasting  well  into  the  night. 
Both,  of  course,  were  ill  next  day,  as  they  said  * 'their  stomachs 
were  boiling."  They  could  not  go  out,  as  the  headman 
ordered,  to  fetch  wood.  I  was  inclined  to  be  merciful, 
when  David  came  up  and  told  me  the  extraordinary  story. 
I  promptly  ordered  them  a  strong  dose  of  Epsom  salts, 
and  saw  them  drink  it  with  many  protestations.  But  it  was 
all  no  use,  they  came  back  in  the  evening  to  say  they  were 
out  of  potio,  and  wanted  more.  So  David  took  them  for 
the  next  two  days  good  naturedly  into  his  own  mess,  and  they 
kept  comparatively  Lenten  fast  with  him.  After  my  lecture, 
as  they  turned  away,  I  asked  John  what  they  said.  ;'The 
bwana  does  not  know  much  about  eating  —  any  two  men 
in  our  village  will  eat  a  whole  sheep  before  they  get  up." 

These  Kavorondo  were  steady,  frugal  fellows  in  their 
own  way.  I  discharged  them  at  Lundiani,  after  they  had 
worked  well  for  four  months.  I  saw  them  roll  up  their 
mats,  take  their  little  savings,  and  start  on  foot  for  their 


SEFARI  LIFE  155 

mother's  hut  by  the  lake,  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  away. 
Most  porters  would  have  immediately  spent  a  large  sum 
(for  them)  in  buying  a  ticket  on  the  next  train,  and  so  impress- 
ing their  relatives  with  their  importance. 

Before  closing  this  chapter,  which  is  nothing  if  not 
practical,  I  will  add  some  hints  about  food  which  every 
traveller  knows  to  be  an  important  subject,  and  in  Africa, 
is  doubly  important,  since  good  food  is  not  always  easily 
obtained,  while  the  trying  climate  renders  it  peculiarly 
necessary. 

I  was  prepared  to  put  up  with  poor  meat.  I  was  told 
"African  meat  is  dry  and  tasteless,  and  has  small  nourish- 
ment in  it."  I  must  admit  that  much  game  meat  is  very 
poor  stuff;  that  no  meat  compares  for  a  moment  with  the  flesh 
of  our  own  wild  animals,  fed  on  the  short  bunch  grass  of 
the  prairie,  or  mountain.  You  never  see  a  bit  of  rich, 
brown  fat  on  anything,  or  indeed,  any  fat  at  all,  except  on  a 
hippo  or  a  lion,  which,  well,  smells!  or  a  cow  eland  (which 
you  cannot  shoot  now,  though  you  could  a  few  years  ago). 
But  though  all  game  meat  here  is  unaccountably  thin,  one 
of  the  chief  reasons  it  eats  so  badly  is  that  everyone  in  the 
country  seems  possessed  with  the  idea  that  it  cannot  be  kept 
but  must  be  cooked  at  once,  or  at  most  in  twenty-four  hours. 

When  I  first  began  to  spend  my  holidays  after  big  game 
in  our  Eastern  woods  or  Western  mountains,  I  encoun- 
tered precisely  the  same  prejudice  —  and  it  was  not  till 
I  made  my  men  use  gunny  sacks  for  the  meat  I  wanted  for 
myself,  and  saw  it  hung  in  the  shade,  safe  in  its  rough  cov- 
ering from  flies,  but  open  to  the  air,  that  I  succeeded  in 
convincing  my  experienced  companions  that  meat  could  be 
kept,  when  properly  butchered,  often  as  long  as  ten  days, 
and  yet  remain  sound  and  sweet.  So  kept  and  hung,  there 
is  no  meat  game  in  the  world  that  can  compare  with  our 
blacktail,  wapiti,  or  mountain  sheep.  Now,  though  no 
cleanliness  in  preparing,  or  carefulness  in  hanging  African 


156  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

meat,  will  make  it  like  that,  such  treatment  can,  and  does, 
greatly  improve  it. 

On  my  first  trip  I  had  so  much  to  learn  and  so  short  a 
time  to  learn  it  in,  I  never  was  able  to  tackle  satisfactorily 
the  larder  question,  though  I  came  away  convinced  that 
it  was  not  necessary  always  to  eat  such  stuff  as  I  had  been 
obliged  to  put  up  with.  Then,  too,  I  was  misled,  as  who 
has  not  been  before  me,  by  the  confident  assertion  of  those 
who  professed  to  know  what  they  spoke  and  wrote  about, 
that  such  and  such  parts  of  such  and  such  animals  were 
dainties.  Even  in  the  United  States  my  experience  in  that 
line  had  not  been  satisfactory,  and  I  had  learned  to  cherish 
the  sad  doubt  of  the  disillusioned.  I  had  heard,  for  instance, 
of  the  deliciousness  of  beaver  tail,  and  believed  till  one  sad, 
hungry  day  I  made  an  experiment  on  a  goodly  beaver  tail, 
and  I  found  that  more  nauseous,  uneatable  stuff  a  hungry 
man  never  tackled.  One  night  I  could  not  get  back  to 
camp,  but  had  to  make  my  foodless  fire  by  the  side  of  a  big 
grizzly  I  had  killed.  Water  was  good,  but  I  had  not  even 
a  biscuit,  and  many  a  long  mile  I  had  gone  that  day.  A 
sudden  inspiration  seized  me.  Who  had  not  often  heard 
of  the  deliciousness  of  soup  made  from  bear's  paws  ?  So 
one  of  the  big  skinned,  humanlike  paws  was  cut  up,  and 
part  of  it  set  to  stew  in  my  drinking  cup.  As  it  slowly, 
so  slowly,  stewed,  there  was  a  suspicious  odour  about  it. 
But  when  it  was  done  —  well,  one  sip  was  enough,  even  for 
so  keen  set  an  appetite  as  mine.  Then  my  cup  needed 
double  rinsing.  One  by  one  I  sadly  tried  all  those  famous 
fabled  dainties.  Found  moose  moufle  about  the  only  part 
of  a  moose  that  was  not  good  to  eat.  I  make,  I  say  one 
exception,  and  that  is  a  good,  strong  one.  It  is  in  favour 
of  buffalo  hump.  Buffalo  hump  is  —  alas,  rather  was  — 
undeniably  good. 

Well,  here  noted  hunters  spin  the  same  unaccountably 
ridiculous  yarns.  Elephant  trunk!  Why  you  had  better 


SEFARI  LIFE  157 

try  and  dine  off  your  cast-off,  greasy  boot.  I  need  not  go  on. 
But  there  are  some  eatable  things  even  in  unpromising 
beasts. 

Rhinos'  tails  will,  if  boiled,  for  five  hours,  make  a  fair 
substitute  for  ox-tail  soup.  Kongoni's  marrow  bones  are 
delicious  and  unusually  welcome  since  you  cannot  any- 
where get  fat.  Tongue  of  the  rhino,  if  boiled  all  day,  is  not 
bad,  and  it  is  big!  Giraffe  marrow  is  the  best  I  ever  tasted 
in  my  life,  and  there  is  enough  in  one  hind  leg  to  furnish 
a  little  course  by  itself  for  six  men. 

The  ordinary  animals,  if  their  meat  is  well  butchered, 
will  furnish  fairly  good  food.  I  think  the  little  steinbuck 
is  the  best.  Then  bushbuck,  Tommy,  and  a  long  way  down 
comes  the  useful  and  ubiquitous  kongoni,  destined,  it  is 
safe  to  say,  to  furnish  you  three  meals  out  of  four.  Lower 
still  in  the  scale  come  Grant  and  reed  buck.  The  men 
always  love  zebra,  and  as  you  go  off  hunting,  if  they  know 
you  well  and  like  you,  will  sidle  up  saying, "  Punda,  bwana"; 
but  I  have  not  been  able  to  face  it.  It  is  donkey,  and 
smells  donkey. 

The  birds  are  fairly  good.  The  great  bustard,  not  an 
easy  gentleman  to  get,  weighs  thirty-five  pounds  or  more,  and 
slices  of  him  fry  well.  The  lesser  bustard  is  very  good  indeed. 
So  is  the  little  spurred  partridge.  Guinea  fowl  are  plenti- 
ful and  tough.  We  found  it  best  to  reduce  them  to  curry. 
The  breasts  make  a  good  curry.  But  African  meat  has 
usually  no  chance  to  show  how  it  can  serve  you.  It  is 
almost  always  handled  by  natives,  and  no  one  takes  the 
trouble  to  see  that  it  is  even  kept  clean  and  dry. 

Life  has  been  lived  rudely,  by  the  white  man,  every- 
where in  Africa.  (Read  Sir  Henry  Johnstone's  book.) 
He  has  been  and  often  is,  an  exploiter,  a  ruthless  destroyer 
of  its  people  and  its  game.  "Go  out  and  get  a  bit  of  meat," 
the  saying  is;  and  "a  bit"  taken,  the  rest  is  left.  I  have 
never  seen  (I  may  have  been  unfortunate)  meat  hung  up, 


158  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

and  protected  from  flies,  in  any  sefaris  but  my  own.  "Let 
it  go,  we  will  get  some  more  to-morrow,"  and  so  they  live 
on  tough,  badly  prepared  stuff. 

See  your  game  butchered  yourself.  If  your  gunbearer 
does  not  know  how  to  do  it  properly,  do  it  for  him,  once 
or  twice,  after  that  insist  on  its  being  done  exactly  as  you 
say,  and  if  it  is  not  so  done,  punish  promptly. 

Open  the  carcass,  have  all  the  paunch  removed,  see 
that  the  bladder  and  big  gut  are  not  broken  in  the  operation, 
but  are  drawn  out  whole.  Then  make  the  men  wipe  it 
out  with  grass,  and  leave  the  skin  on  the  whole  carcass  if 
it  is  a  little  one,  or  if  a  big,  on  that  part  which  you  propose 
using  yourself.  It  then  is  clean,  and  can  be  hung  up  dry 
in  camp.  Keep  it  for  three  or  more  days,  in  the  shade  of 
a  tree  or  bush,  and  you  will  have  fair  meat.  Keep,  too, 
your  soup  pot  going  all  the  time,  and  let  the  coarser  bits 
stew,  slowly,  in  it  for  hours.  Then  you  have  a  foundation 
for  a  hot  soup;  a  good  thing  to  take  when  you  come  in 
fagged. 

Of  wild  fruits  and  vegetables  there  is  but  poor  store. 
A  pretty,  yellow-globed  tomato,  that  hangs  from  a  thorny 
plant,  sometimes  eighteen  inches,  and  sometimes  many 
feet  high,  is  really  of  the  nightshade  variety,  and  is 
poisonous. 

The  enticing  little  ground  melon,  the  size  and  colour  of 
a  lemon,  you  commonly  see,  is  of  no  use.  The  palm  nuts 
are  too  tough  for  the  monkeys.  The  wild  olive  berries  are 
so  bitter  that  they  taint  the  usually  good  flesh  of  purple 
pigeons  that  feed  on  them  greedily.  There  are  some 
yellow,  plumlike  fruits  (the  porters  eat)  but  these  are  far 
too  sour  for  a  European  taste.  One  most  delicious  berry 
I  have  found,  but  it  does  not  seem  to  be  common.  It 
grows  on  a  bush  very  much  like  a  blackberry  bush.  The 
fruit  is  like  a  large,  luscious  raspberry,  but  yellow. 

There  is  no  denying,  however,  the  excellent  quality  and 


SEFARI  LIFE  159 

flavour  of  the  common  mushroom.  Here  it  is  often  as  large 
as  a  breakfast  plate,  and  sound  throughout.  While  they 
last,  they  are  a  luxury  indeed,  especially  if  you  have  been, 
as  is  likely,  for  weeks  without  vegetables  of  any  sort. 

I  should  add,  when  you  make  permanent  camp,  direct 
the  headman  to  put  up  a  rain-proof  grass  hut  for  your 
own  use,  without  delay.  It  is  much  cooler  than  a  tent  to 
sit  in,  and  it  is  better  to  have  the  flies,  that  will  accumulate 
at  meal  time,  pay  their  inevitable  attentions  to  you  in  the 
open  air,  than  swarm  in  your  tent,  as  you  try  to  eat  or  read. 

I  find  I  left  out  one  delicacy.  J.  J.  W.  declares  that 
lion's  tongue  is  excellent,  but  he  had  the  dish  to  himself! 


CHAPTER  VII 

HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION 

ONE  beautiful  morning  in  late  September,  with  a  large 
sefari,  we  moved  from  our  camp  on  the  stream  that 
borders  the  open  treeless  country,  and  set  our  faces  once 
again  toward  the  Rock. 

The  plateau  had  already  yielded  specimens  of  all  the 
game  frequenting  it  excepting  elephant.  These,  too,  we 
followed  on  our  first  visit,  but  had  not  had  the  luck  to  come 
on  any  with  sufficiently  big  tusks  to  warrant  our  shooting. 
In  May,  June,  and  July  the  herbage  here  is  short,  thorn 
trees  have  not  put  forth  their  new  shoots,  and  elephant 
are  not  tempted  to  stay  and  eat.  If  they  visited  the 
country,  the  probability  was  they  would  pass  rapidly 
across  it  to  the  better  feeding  grounds  that  Mount  Elgon 
or  Kamasea  afforded  them.  Now,  in  September  and  Oc- 
tober everything  —  grass  and  reed  and  tree  —  had  attained 
their  semi-annual  growth,  and  the  thorn  groves  were  just 
as  the  elephant  like  to  have  them.  So  we  came  hoping 
for  great  things. 

If  elephants  cross  the  treeless  part  of  this  land,  they  do 
so  usually  at  night.  Unless  they  are  in  a  country  where 
they  are  little  disturbed,  they  very  seldom  venture  into 
the  open  flat  during  the  hours  of  broad  daylight.  Knowing 
this  we  had  no  expectation  of  seeing  anything  of  them  until 
we  had  reached  their  usual  stopping  places  and  feeding 
grounds,  among  the  many  square  miles  of  thorn  dotted 
country  that  extends  from  ten  miles  north  of  Sergoit  into 
and  beyond  the  wide  bend  that  the  Nzoia  River  makes,  as 
it  flows  from  Kamasea  and  Cherangang  Mountains  on  the 

160 


HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION  161 

east  of  the  plateau,  and  bends  in  a  wide  sweep  round  the 
southern  base  of  Mount  Elgon. 

But  this  beautiful  morning  a  genuine  surprise  awaited 
us.  The  sefari,  a  hundred  and  ten  strong,  stepped  out 
bravely.  They  were  as  anxious  as  we  were  to  reach  the 
land  of  abundant  n  yama  (game).  The  long  tramp 
across  the  Mau  escarpment  with  its  cold  nights  and  high 
and  beautiful,  but  gameless  downs,  had  whetted  their 
longing  for  unlimited  "punda"  (zebra). 

We  had  scarcely  swung  out,  well  clear  of  the  last  vestige 
of  forest  land,  when  a  row  of  strange  black  dots  caught 
my  attention  far  away  on  the  right  of  the  trail.  The  sun 
was  only  just  up,  and  in  its  earliest  light  the  ripe  grass  shone 
like  gold.  Against  such  a  background  these  black  things 
showed  up  sharply.  Could  it  be  ?  Yes,  here,  far  away, 
from  woodland  or  cover,  here  is  the  elephant  at  last.  We 
could  scarcely  believe  our  eyes.  Sixteen  great  beasts 
moving  steadily  along  at  a  pace  that  seemed  far  slower 
than  it  was.  No  doubt  they  had  kept  to  their  unerring 
course  the  long  night  through.  That  dangerous  open 
prairie  had  to  be  passed.  From  the  Nandi  woodlands 
on  the  west  they  were  bound  to  the  Elgao  forests  on  the 
east,  a  march  of  at  least  thirty  miles,  and  so  well  was  this 
journey  timed,  that  in  half  an  hour  they  would  surely  be. 
in  their  desired  covert. 

With  curving  trunk  they  marched  along,  the  sun  glinting^ 
now  and  then  on  the  ivories.  It  was  a  beautiful  and  inter- 
esting sight.  I  need  scarcely  say  that  we  examined  that 
dark  line  attentively.  Were  they  cows  and  bulls,  or  were 
they  cows  and  totos  only?  Alas!  not  a  bull  in  the  lot! 
It  was  a  sad  disappointment,  for  here  in  the  open,  had 
there  been  "tuskers,"  there  was  no  escape  for  them.  It 
was  the  fourth  time  I  had  had  a  good  view  of  elephant, 
but  not  once  had  there  been  a  good  tusk  in  the  herd. 
Once  we  were  satisfied  that  there  was  nothing  there  for  us, 


162  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

we  did  what  we  could  to  photograph  them,  but  while  we 
waited  to  make  sure  of  their  "ivories,"  they  had  gained  the 
edge  of  a  swampy  bit  of  valley  where  the  bush  was  thick. 
This  wouldn't  have  saved  them  from  a  hunter,  but  it  was 
sufficient  to  embarrass  the  would-be  photographer.  I 
got  within  seventy  yards  of  one  big  cow,  but  she  went 
into  dark  shade  and  was  lost  to  my  camera.  Whether 
any  result  shall  reward  our  efforts  to  get  a  picture  I  cannot 
at  present  say,  but  even  if  we  failed,  it  was  a  most  fasci- 
nating stalk,  the  dark  bulk  of  the  great  beasts,  moving 
in  that  mysteriously  silent  way,  through  brittle  and  thorny 
bush.  Here  and  there  a  vast  ear  would  be  thrown  out 
and  forward.  They  seemed  to  suspect  some  strange 
thing  near  (though  the  wind  was  steady  and  in  our  favour) 
and  showed  some  restlessness  for  a  time.  Then,  having 
apparently  found  the  sort  of  feeding  they  liked,  they  settled 
down  for  the  day  in  the  deep  shade,  and  so,  undisturbed, 
we  left  them. 

How  is  it  possible  for  these  animals  whose  sight  is  so 
bad  that  they  cannot  detect  a  man  at  fifty  yards  distance, 
to  take  the  wonderfully  straight  course,  they  invariably 
do,  when  making  their  great  marches  ?  If  you  want  to  steer 
a  good  course  in  a  difficult  country  to  find  the  nearest  way 
from  point  to  point,  avoiding  rough  places  and  deep  fords 
or  swamps,  follow  travelling  elephant.  You  cannot  im- 
prove on  his  topography.  He  knows  where  he  wants  to 
go  and  how  to  get  there,  by  the  shortest  and  safest  road, 
HOW,  without  vision  which  would  enable  him  to  recog- 
nize locality,  he  does  this,  no  one  knows.  He  will  wander 
up  and  down  in  the  bush  he  feeds  in,  like  any  other  browsing 
beast.  But  once  travelling  is  the  order  of  the  day,  he 
"stakes  his  line"  unerringly. 

This  great  country  that  stretches  from  Sergoit  to  the 
Turquell  River  is  much  cut  up  by  steep  and  swampy  streams. 
Jn  the  rains,  and  for  weeks  following  them,  these  are  so 


HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION  163 

swollen  that  their  passage  is  often  impossible.  Even  in 
dry  weather  the  easy  crossings  have  to  be  carefully  sought 
out.  In  such  cases  no  hunter  can  do  better  than  keep  his 
sefari  on  the  higher  ridges,  taking,  so  far  as  possible,  the 
direction  he  wants,  and  attempt  no  crossing  till  he  comes 
on  an  old  elephant  trail.  Once  one  is  found  a  passage 
can  be  made.  Till  one  is  found  much  time  is  apt  to  be 
lost  in  looking  it  out.  Excepting  the  Congo  country, 
which  is  closed  to  all  hunters  at  present,  save  only  to  such 
as  can,  through  Belgian  court  favour,  secure  a  permit, 
no  district  in  Africa  holds  probably  as  many  elephants. 
The  plateau  lies  between  two  great  fastnesses  of  theirs  — 
the  Elgao  escarpment  on  the  east  and  Elgon  on  the  west. 
In  either  of  these  they  are  secure  from  all  approach,  unless 
it  be  the  stealthy  stalking  of  some  unusually  adventurous 
N'dorobo.*  A  few  elephants  are  annually  killed  in  this 
way  with  poisoned  harpoons,  but  they  are  very  few  indeed. 
For  the  white  hunters  to  attempt  them  in  such  cover  is 
dangerous  and  useless.  A  few  hours'  struggle  with  its 
underbrush  would  quickly  convince  the  most  skeptical 
on  this  point.  The  great  tree  trunks  break  up  the  air 
currents,  and  a  steady  stalking  breeze  you  never  get  in  the 
deep  forest,  while  apart  from  that,  a  silent  approach  is 
out  of  the  question  (at  least  in  this  forest).  But  after  the 
rains  the  great  beasts  seem  to  have  a  craving  for  light  and 
air,  and  the  fresher  fodder  that  has  sprung  up  on  the  green 
veldt,  and  covered  the  innumerable  thorn  trees  growing  all 
over  it.  In  little  bands  and  great,  they  stream  down  from 
the  high  hills,  out  over  the  sunny  plain.  Sometimes  a  hun- 
dred or  more  may  be  seen  together  —  cows,  smaller  bulls, 

*  N'dorobo  literally  means  wild  man.  The  term  is  applied  to  any  native  who,  leaving  the  tribe  for 
a  time,  or  for  good,  takes  to  hunting.  There  are  Lumbwa,  Nandi,  Kikuyu,  Massai  N'dorobo.  But 
the  Pukka  N'dorobo  are  a  people  apart,  with  districts  and  language  and  customs  of  their  own.  Their 
•chief  home  and  country  lies  to  east  of  the  Nzoia  plateau  and  north  of  Charangang  Mountain.  Here, 
amid  impenetrable  woods  and  mountains  they  leave  their  women  and  children  when  they  go  hunting  on 
the  plain.  Here  too  they  raise  their  scanty  crops  of  whimby  etc.,  and  here  are  their  only  kraals.  Other 
large  settlements  of  N'dorobo,  Newman  speaks  of.  These  live  to  east  and  west  of  Kenia.  They  are 
the  same  people. 


1 64  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

and  totos,  growing  and  tiny,  the  great  tuskers  generally 
keeping  to  themselves. 

Then  is  the  time  when  the  hunter  may  take  his  toll. 
They  are  far  from  any  safe  retreating  place,  and  the  nature 
of  the  country  makes  approach  comparatively  easy.  Jn  a 
few  years  at  most  they  may  be  expected  to  learn  caution, 
and  to  descend  less  frequently  or  in  fewer  numbers  to  their 
loved  pleasure  ground.  But  they  have  been  hunted  so 
little  here  as  yet  that  for  some  time  to  come  they  are  more 
likely  to  be  met  with  near  the  Nzoia  River,  than  in  any 
other  part  of  British  East  Africa. 

Great  tusks,  too,  these  Elgon  elephants  sometimes  carry, 
not  so  large,  it  is  true,  as  their  cousins  of  Uganda,  where 
teeth  of  two  hundred  pound  the  pair  are  quite  common,  but 
still  very  much  larger  than  those  of  elephants  found  in  any 
other  part  of  the  country.  My  present  companion  and 
hunter,  Mr.  A.  C.  Hoey,  has  been  at  the  death  of  several 
of  these  ancient  bulls  —  one  pair,  records,  I  think,  for  the 
Protectorate,  weighed  137  and  128  pounds  respectively. 

No  hunting  is  as  uncertain  as  elephant  hunting.  They 
are  here  to-day,  quite  fifty  miles  off  to-morrow.  They 
stay  for  days,  or  even  weeks  in  a  country  where  almost 
any  greenhorn  can  shoot  them,  or  they  slip  silently,  like 
great  noiselessly  moving  ghosts,  by  your  tent  fires  in  the 
night,  and  you  couldn't  persuade  yourself  of  the  reality 
of  their  visit,  did  you  not  see,  in  the  morning,  the  broadly 
beaten  track. 

You  hastily  rally  your  gunbearers,  fill  your  saddle 
bags  and  rush  off  on  the  spoor.  Do  not  be  in  so  great  a 
hurry  that  you  cut  short  your  breakfast,  or  fail  to  fill  your 
water  bottle.  In  all  likelihood  you  are  in  for  a  wearying 
day.  Put  an  extra  saddle  blanket  on  your  mule  or  pony. 
The  nights  are  chilly,  and  you  may  need  it  before  you  see 
camp  again.  There  is  no  experience  the  hunter  meets  with, 
in  Africa,  no  pursuit  of  any  of  its  game,  that  tries  him  as 


HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION  165 

does  a  stern  chase  after  a  band  of  travelling  elephants. 
When  and  where  they  are  are  likely  to  stop  no  one  can  tell. 
The  only  thing  to  do  is  to  follow  on,  sleep  on  the  trail  and 
follow  on  again.  Many  of  course  will  not  give  themselves 
this  trouble,  and  let  a  travelling  herd  go,  taking  their 
chances  of  coming  on  other  bands  which  are  feeding.  I 
should  not  advise  anyone  to  take  up  the  chase  unless  he 
is  in  fair  condition,  and  a  night  under  the  stars  has  no 
terrors  for  him.  To  go  six  or  seven  hours,  hard  as  your 
men  can  walk  and  run,  and  your  mule  or  pony  trot  or  canter, 
and  then  to  turn  back,  is  a  very  wearying  business.  Let 
them  go,  and  trust  to  luck  and  another  chance,  or  follow 
on  till  you  get  your  shot,  or  the  herd  gains  some  covert 
where  they  are  safe  from  pursuit. 

Though  we  were  not  destined  to  get  elephant  this  time, 
it  seemed  a  good  augury  for  our  future  to  meet  them  so  soon, 
and,  indeed,  this  day  auspiciously  begun  was  to  prove 
a  red-letter  day  on  our  calendar.  We  had  made  ten  or 
twelve  miles  of  the  eighteen  that  separated  us  from  our 
camping  ground,  at  the  clear  spring  that  rises  two  miles 
beyond  Sergoit,  when  H.  suggested  to  me  that  we 
might  leave  the  sefari  and  explore  an  exceedingly  likely 
bit  of  country,  through  which  in  the  rains  a  water  course 
trickled,  one  of  those  broad,  shallow  depressions  in  the 
plain  that  are  common  in  East  Africa,  its  bottom  dotted 
with  small  rushy  hollows  where  water  lay  occasionally, 
its  sides  sometimes  rocky,  often  sloping  smoothly  up  to 
the  level  —  an  ideal  place  for  lion. 

We  followed  the  windings  of  this  open  donga  for  several 
miles  and  saw  great  quantities  of  game.  The  nature  of 
the  country  enabled  us  often  to  get  quite  close  before  we 
were  seen.  Oraby,  topy,  eland,  warthog,  scattered  before 
us,  but  we  wanted  lion  and  let  them  alone.  It  was  a 
charming  ride,  and  over  a  country  that  must  soon  pass  into 
the  settlers'  hands.  The  soil  and  climate  are  too  good, 


1 66  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

and  water  too  abundant  to  permit  of  its  remaining  for  much 
longer  what  it  is  to-day  —  a  no  man's  land,  and  only  the 
favourite  feeding  ground  for  innumerable  game  herds. 

The  sefari  had  made  camp  before  we  rode  in.  The 
men  came  running  up  to  say  that  J.  J.  W.  and  his  hunter 
had  shot  a  great  lion  (simba  koubwa).  Another  waved 
a  zebra  tail  that  he  carried  for  the  flies.  "Mane  long  and 
black  like  this!"  he  cried.  Here  was  news  indeed.  Ele- 
phant seen  in  the  open,  and  a  black  maned  lion  bagged 
on  the  very  first  morning's  ride  into  our  old  game  country. 
Presently  the  hunters  came  in.  It  seemed  that  almost  as 
soon  as  we  had  ridden  away  from  the  sefari,  my  syce,  who 
was  leading  my  mule,  saw  a  fine  lion  going  quietly  along, 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  sloping  ridge  they  were  marching 
on.  He  was  about  a  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred 

yards  away,  and  in  full  view.     Both  J.  J.  W and  his 

hunter  shot  at  him  twice  without  hitting  him;  a  moving  lion 
at  two  hundred  yards,  is  not  an  easy  shot.  He  broke  into  a 
gallop,  and  dashed  over  the  crest  on  to  the  level  veldt 
beyond.  There  they  had  him,  for  J.  J.  W.'s  syce,  a 
Somali,  accustomed  to  lion  riding  and  very  well  mounted, 
rounded  him  up,  in  five  or  six  hundred  yards.  The  great 
fellow  must  have  fed  too  well  that  morning,  and  was  not 
able,  or  did  not  care,  to  run  fast  or  far.  Anyway,  he  came 
to  a  stand  in  short  grass.  This  part  of  the  plateau  is  ideal 
country  for  "riding"  —  the  game  having  kept  the  rich 
sod  well  cropped,  there  are  few  holes  and  no  bushes.  The 
lion  stood  grandly  to  bay.  J.  J.  W.'s  hunter  rode  a  mule 
that  was  faster  than  his,  and  in  his  excitement,  did  what 
no  professional  hunter  should  under  any  circumstances 
be  allowed  to  do,  unless  you  want  him  to  shoot  the  lion 
instead  of  yourself.  He  galloped  ahead  of  his  man,  and 
got  up  within  shooting  distance  some  time  before  J.  J.  W. 
did.  The  latter  who  got  up  on  his  mule,  soon  as  he  could, 
had  forgotten  to  take  his  rifle  from  his  gunbearer.  So  here 


HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION  167 

he  found  himself  within  seventy  yards  of  a  bayed  lion, 
and  he  and  his  hunter  had  only  one  rifle  between  them, 
and  that,  as  it  turned  out  later,  was  loaded  with  solid 
bullets.  He  did  the  only  thing  he  could  do  under  the  cir- 
cumstances —  took  his  man's  rifle,  and  aiming  steadily, 
shot  the  beast,  who  had  not  yet  begun  to  advance  on  them, 
full  in  the  chest. 

The  lion  sank  to  the  shot  but,  rising  immediately, 
advanced  toward  them,  increasing  his  pace  as  he  came  on. 
J.  J.  W.  handed  the  rifle,  a  .350  Mauser  Rigby,  to  his  hunter, 
thinking  he  could  better  stop  the  charge.  Again  and  again 
the  brave  beast  was  shot,  the  bullets  taking  effect  in  the 
neck  and  chest.  He  came  on,  nevertheless,  steadily  on, 
till  he  could  not  have  been  more  than  twenty  yards  away, 
when  the  fifth  bullet  must  have  taken  him  in  the  heart,  for, 
springing  into  the  air  to  his  full  height,  with  widely  extended 
paws,  he  fell  dead. 

I  have  read  of  lion  so  springing  upward  on  receiving  a 
death  wound,  and  I  remember  in  some  story  book  of  my 
boyhood  seeing  an  illustration  of  such  a  lion's  death. 
But  none  of  us  had  ever  seen  or  heard  of  so  splendidly  dra- 
matic an  ending  to  the  king  of  beasts.  When  the  skin  was 
spread  the  great  beauty  was  evident.  It  was  a  blacker 
lion  than  even  my  first,  and  that  was  a  most  unusually  fine 
one,  not  so  large  by  a  good  deal,  but  with  heavy,  waving 
masses  of  rich  yellow  mane  turning  to  glossy  black, 
covering  the  shoulders,  and  falling  almost  to  the  ground. 
Unquestionably  no  such  skin  has  been  shot  for  some 
time  in  the  Protectorate.  He  measured  nine  feet  five 
inches  as  he  lay,  and  was  an  old  fellow  with  teeth  a  good 
deal  worn. 

He  died  hard.  But  this  was  accounted  for,  as  I  said, 
when  we  came  to  examine  the  bullet  holes.  J.  J.  W.'s 
man  had  loaded  his  rifle  with  solid  bullets  when  we  came 
on  the  elephant,  and  carelessly  forgot  to  change  them  to 


1 68  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

soft  nose  on  as  he  rode  on  his  way.  It  was  a  piece  of  for- 
getfulness  that  might  have  cost  him  dear.  Solid  bullets 
are  not  good  things  to  stop  an  oncoming  lion  with.  One, 
or  at  most  two,  well-placed,  soft-nose  350*5  would,  on  the 
other  hand,  have  taken  the  fight  out  of  any  lion.  No  man 
can  afford  to  take  any  chances  with  lion.  It  is  by  taking 
chances,  or  by  some  act  of  carelessness  or  ignorance  such 
as  this,  that  so  many  men  are  mauled.  But  all's  well  that 
ends  well.  And  none  of  us  will  ever  see  a  finer  lion  than 
this  one  that  died  so  gallantly. 

For  the  next  two  days  I  had  a  bout  of  decidedly  bad 
shooting.  The  great  herds  of  game  are  always  far  harder 
to  approach  than  small  groups  or  single  animals,  and 
round  the  Rock  a  near  shot  is  generally  difficult  to  get,  as 
there  is  little  but  cover.  Still,  with  patience,  you  could  even 
here  get  within  three  hundred  yards  of  kongoni  and  zebra, 
and  at  that  range  I  had  killed  a  great  deal  of  meat.  But 
now  it  was  not  to  be.  I  felt  all  the  more  chagrined  as  I 
had  promised  the  men  a  big  feed  once  we  reached  Sergoit 
camp.  I  missed  one  kongoni  at  three  hundred,  wounded 
another  at  not  much  over  two  hundred,  and  wounded  a 
big  pig.  Then  I  thought  it  was  time  to  stop,  and  for  the 
present,  at  least,  depute  to  H.  the  task  of  getting  meat 
for  our  hungry  men. 

Next  day  we  moved  camp  to  a  place  H.  knew  well, 
and  where,  on  another  occasion,  we  had  seen  several  lions. 
The  water  was  fair,  but  we  had  to  send  forty  men  more 
than  three  miles  to  bring  in  wood.  Tents  were  pitched  in 
a  closer  circle  than  usual,  and  a  large  central  fire  kept 
going,  as  our  mules,  donkeys,  and  ponies  needed  hereabouts 
very  special  looking  after. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  we  rode  off  for  a  look  round  but 
saw  nothing.  Next  morning  I  determined  to  make  a  very 
early  start,  H.  and  I  going  in  one  direction,  and  J.  J.  W. 
and  his  hunter  taking  another.  The  season  was  so  early 


HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION  169 

we  had  little  fear  of  being  interfered  with  by  another  sefari, 
and  as  lions  would  keep,  but  elephant  would  wander  away, 
we  determined  to  make  a  wide  circle  and  try  and  cut  fresh 
elephant  spoor. 

It  was  dawn,  but  not  day,  when  I  and  my  man  rode  off 
to  the  westward,  toward  Elgon.  We  had  not  ridden  a 
mile,  before  we  came  on  elephant  signs,  that  could  not  be 
more  than  eight  or  nine  hours  old,  and,  turning  off,  fol- 
lowed as  fast  as  our  trackers  could  make  it  out.  Much 
of  the  ground  was  bare,  and  all  of  it  baked  hard,  so  tracking 
at  times,  even  though  the  N'dorobo,  we  had,  were  good  at 
their  work,  was  not  easy.  In  a  couple  of  hours  we  had  left 
the  level,  treeless  plain,  and  were  among  stunted  thorn  and 
patch,  and  long  grass,  that  in  some  places  was  four  or  five 
feet  high  and  very  thick.  We  had  scarcely  ridden  a  mile, 
in  this  sort  of  cover  when  my  Brownie  and  H.  at  the  same 
moment,  saw  three  lionesses,  slinking  away,  some  five  hun- 
dred yards  on  our  right.  It  was  a  most  undesirable  sort 
of  country  to  ride  them  in.  You  could  only  see  ahead  of 
you,  for  a  little  way,  and  the  grass  was  long  enough,  even 
when  it  was  shortest,  to  cover  a  crouching  lioness.  But 
it  was  our  first  chance,  and  anyway  we  took  it  quickly. 
H.'s  pony  was  a  beauty,  and  very  fast.  I  had  mounted 
my  syce  (a  Somali,  who  had  ridden  lion)  on  a  good  strong 
mare,  that  had  a  turn  of  speed  too,  and  for  myself,  I  rode 
a  quite  extraordinarily  good  sure-footed  mule.  Noth- 
ing could  separate  that  mule  from  H.'s  pony.  Where  the 
pony  went,  that  mule  could  not  be  prevented  going,  and  at 
a  pace  that  was  quite  wonderful,  for  a  mule.  H.  took  his 
.450  from  the  gunboy,  I  seized  my  .350  repeater.  Brownie 
had  to  follow  as  best  he  could,  and  we  were  off. 

No  riding  like  it  anywhere  in  the  world.  On,  on,  the 
yellow,  waving  grass  often  above  my  saddle,  no  chance  to 
see  holes,  or  rocks,  or  fallen  tree  stems.  Amid  the  thick- 
ening brush  I  had  all  I  could  do  to  sit  tight  and  keep  the 


170  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

two  men  ahead  of  me  in  view.  We  started  at  a  hard  gallop 
but  now  there  is  a  wild  yell  in  front  and  the  ponies  are  going 
at  very  topmost  speed.  They  see  the  lions  before  them. 
The  bushes  thicken,  the  grass  is  rank  and  high.  I  must 
keep  near  those  ponies  at  any  cost,  so  in  go  the  spurs  and 
we  tear  along.  There  were  three  lions  or  lionesses  —  we 
had  not  a  clear  enough  view  to  tell  which.  But  now  there 
is  but  one  ahead.  Where  on  earth  are  the  other  two  ? 
Where  did  they  turn  ?  Where  do  they  crouch  ?  This 
thickening  grass  hides  anything,  and  everything!  No 
insurance  company  in  the  world  would  grant  you  one  of  those 
delightfully  comprehensive  accident  policies,  if  they  but 
knew  what  might  lie  waiting  you,  all  unseen,  in  that  yellow, 
waving  grass. 

My  plucky  mount  by  now  is  almost  spent  —  we  have 
raced  for  more  than  a  mile  and  a  half.  Here  I  am  on  the 
brow  of  a  sudden  descent,  and  no  man  or  horse  in  sight. 
I  saw  them  not  two  hundred  yards  in  front,  less  than  half 
a  mile  back,  and  expected  to  catch  sight  of  them  each 
moment,  as  I  forced  the  mule  along.  The  lions  have 
swerved  to  right  or  left  suddenly,  and  I  have  swept  by  the 
lot.  Where  are  the  lions  now  ?  And  where  are  my  men  ? 
I  don't  fancy  one  bit  riding  back  through  that  all-hiding 
grass,  and  so  dismount.  Just  in  time,  as  it  happens,  I 
hear  shouting  far  to  my  left,  and  as  I  do,  there,  through  the 
grass,  not  forty  yards  away,  are  two  big  ears  moving.  I 
look  beyond  and  on  either  side  of  those  ears,  anxiously, 
I  confess,  for  a  moment.  The  tall  grass  is  all  round  me. 
This  is  not  the  sort  of  place,  by  any  means,  I  should  have 
chosen  to  make  my  accounting  with  three  thoroughly 
angry  lionesses.  Are  there  one,  two,  three,  ten  ?  Who 
can  tell  ?  Those  ears  come  steadily  nearer,  just  those  ears 
marking  a  broad  head,  which  remains  invisible.  They  are 
equi  distant.  The  lion  is  squarely  head  on.  One  thing  at 
least  is  sure.  I  must  kill  the  beast  with  one  shot.  Now 


HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION  171 

they  are  not  twenty  yards  away.  I  aim,  well  below  the 
ears  and  straight  between  them.  There  lies  the  brain,  and 
at  this  distance  anyone  could  hit  it.  I  fire,  a  deep  grunt, 
more  than  a  growl,  torn,  twisted  grass,  and  big  paws  in  the 
air.  All  is  still.  The  grass  does  not  even  tremble. 

I  look  with  all  my  eyes  into  the  grass  before  me  and 
around.  No  sign  of  another!  And  now  the  shouting  comes 
nearer,  and  I  see  H.  coming  at  a  stretching  gallop,  my 
Somali  close  after  him.  "Are  you  right?"  he  cries.  Very 
evidently  I  am.  "Where  are  the  lions  ?"  "The  grass  beat 
us.  We  have  lost  two."  "When  I  heard  only  one  shot 
I  was  very  anxious.  I  feared  you  had  ridden  into  them 
and  missed."  Of  course  we  shook  hands  all  round,  and 
vowed  we'd  not  "take  on"  lions,  and  more  especially 
lionesses  in  this  sort  of  riding  country  again. 

It  was  still  very  early  morning.  One  of  my  Wakamba, 
my  second  gunbearer,  stayed  to  skin  my  prize,  and  we  rode 
back  to  our  temporarily  deserted  elephant  spoor.  We  fol- 
lowed it  all  day,  losing  it  sometimes  when  the  ridges  were 
bare.  At  other  times  following  at  a  canter,  the  gunbearers 
hanging  to  the  horses'  tails.  But  it  was  all  to  no  pur- 
pose. The  band  we  followed  separated  on  some  rough 
ground  to  hunt  for  water,  and  though  we  made  a  long  cast, 
in  order  to  pick  up  the  trail  again,  we  failed  to  do  so.  It  had 
been  a  hard  day.  We  had  started  very  early  and  gone  for 
at  least  twenty-five  miles,  and  hard  as  man  and  beast  could 
travel,  and  keep  the  spoor.  It  was  already  late  in  the  after- 
noon, and  we  turned  campward.  Our  course  had  been 
in  a  wide  circle,  and  fortunately  "home"  was  not  more 
than  ten  miles  away.  On  the  way  back  we  rode  almost 
among  a  large  herd  of  giraffe.  They  were  looking  at 
something  that  alarmed  them,  directly  away  from  us.  The 
riding  was  good  and  the  grass  muffled  the  ponies'  feet,  so 
we  were  among  them  before  they  knew  it.  I  longed  for 
a  camera  film,  but  I  had  used  up  my  last,  or  I  could,  without 


172  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

difficulty,  have  taken  the  splendid  towering  bull  as  he  stood 
at  less  than  forty  yards  from  me,  before  he  got  his  wits 
about  him  and  trundled  off.  When  at  last  he  got  his 
mighty  legs  going,  H.  couldn't  resist  the  temptation  of  run- 
ning him  for  four  or  five  hundred  yards  —  just  to  try  his 
paces.  The  pony  was  of  course  not  at  its  best,  after  so 
long  a  day,  and  H.  rides  as  heavy  as  I  do  —  one  hundred 
and  ninety  pounds  —  but  the  plucky  pony  had  the  pace 
of  him  easily.  It  was  most  interesting  to  notice  the  great 
bull's  tactics  when  horse  and  rider  were  right  on  him. 
Without  altering  his  rolling,  rocking  stride,  he  would  strike 
'out  with  his  rear  hind  leg,  getting  off  a  prodigious  kick  that, 
if  it  landed,  would  have  smashed  almost  everything.* 
This  he  did  four  or  five  times.  H.'s  pony  swept  him  against 
a  low,  stout  bush,  and  off  he  went,  so  ending  the  curious  race. 
The  giraffe  almost  immediately  pulled  up.  He  seemed  to 
be  thoroughly  winded,  and  calmly  looked  down  on  us  as  we 
wished  him  good  luck  and  rode  by.  To  shoot  such  great, 
'harmless  creatures,  almost  sole  survivors,  as  they  are,  of 
races  of  animals  long  extinct,  seems  to  me  a  thoughtless 
cruelty.  I  speak  of  the  giraffe's  extraordinary  neck  and 
leg  action  in  another  place. 

A  transparent  streak  of  green  blue  colour  in  the  east  — 
just  light  enough  to  see  the  stones  and  holes  that  make 
riding  dangerous,  and  H.  and  I  are  off  again.  Yesterday 
morning  we  were  after  elephant  sign,  and  as  the  lionesses 
came  in  our  way,  we  "fell  into  temptation"  —  and  it  might 
have  been  a  "snare."  To-day  it  is  lion  we  want,  and  no 
place  in  all  Africa  could  offer  a  fairer  chance  to  get  them. 

First  of  all,  for  at  least  three  months,  the  country  has 


*  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  is  respect  for  that  terrible  kick  of  the  giraffe  which  keeps  the  lion  from 
attempting  to  pull  down  the  young.  No  simpler  beast  lives  on  the  veldt  than  a  young  giraffe.  He  is 
'big,  too,  and  must  be  toothsome.  I  watched  one  near  our  camp,  when  we  were  here  in  May.  But 
though  lions  were  very  plentiful,  he  seemed  to  meet  with  no  difficulty.  On  speaking  of  this  race  of 
•ours  after  giraffe  to  Mr.  F.  J.  Jackson,  Lieutenant-Governor  of  the  Protectorate,  and  a  well  known 
•  authority  on  the  game  of  Africa,  he  was  greatly  interested,  assuring  us  that  he  had  never  icen  or 
heard  of  giraffe  kicking  out  in  self-defence  before. 


HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION  173 

been  quite  undisturbed.  No  shot  has  alarmed  the  wary 
monarch  of  the  plain.  Here  there  are  more  lions  than  in 
the  same  extent  of  country  anywhere.  Far  more!  They 
abound  near  Laikipia  where  we  have  been  hunting,  but  there 
the  riding  is  not  nearly  so  safe  nor  the  going  so  fast.  There 
are  not  only  more  holes,  but  the  ground  is  soft,  for  long 
stretches  of  a  mile  at  a  time.  It  is  black  and  sticky,  too,, 
in  parts  when  it  rains,  and  when  the  rains  are  over,  the- 
same  black  soil,  baked  by  the  sun,  cakes  to  a  bricky  hard- 
ness, and  as  it  has  been  much  trampled  by  game,  the  sur- 
face is  often  exceedingly  rough,  making  it  dangerous  riding^ 
On  the  famous  Athi  plains,  near  Nairobi,  the  black  soil, 
is  a  veritable  gumbo,  and  wild  pig  and  badger  holes  are  so> 
common,  that  in  many  places  fast  riding  is  impossible. 

Here  the  going  is  superb ;  not,  of  course,  over  the  whole- 
plateau,  but,  just  by  good  fortune,  in  that  comparatively 
small  part  of  it,  round  the  Rock.  Some  eight  miles  to  east 
of  Sergoit  is  a  long  papyrus  swamp,  surrounded  for  many 
miles,  on  all  sides,  by  plain.  The  soil  is  rich,  the  grass  sweet 
and  strong.  The  game  herds  seem,  for  their  mutual  pro- 
tection, to  have  made  an  agreement  to  meet  after  the  rain 
on  this  wide  prairie  land,  and  to  graze  it  down  and  keep 
it  down.  I  say  for  their  mutual  protection,  for  in  the  long 
grass  that  soon  after  the  rains  covers  the  low  lands  bor- 
dering the  Nzoia,  and  also  clothes  all  the  country  across 
that  river,  both  lion  and  N'dorobo  can  work  their  will  on 
the  larger  antelope  and  the  zebra.  Neither  of  these  dire 
enemies  of  the  game  find  much  difficulty  in  crawling  within 
a  few  yards  of  their  prey,  sheltered  as  they  are  by  the  dense 
growth  of  long  grass.  From  that  distance  the  lion  makes 
his  terrible  rush,  and  the  wild  man  speeds  his  deadly  poisoned 
arrow.  As  the  grass  lengthens,  the  larger  herds  of  game 
leave  the  lower  country  for  the  tableland  on  which  we  are 
hunting,  seemingly  knowing  well,  that  on  it,  they  are  in 
comparative  safety.  The  N'dorobo  kill  little  game  on  the- 


174  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

upper  plateau,  or  anywhere  else,  when  the  grass  is  short. 
I  visited  scores  of  their  little  hunting  lodges  before  the 
rains  began,  in  this  very  country,  and  found  little  meat  and 
very  little  fresh  skin.  What  meat  and  skin  they  had  was 
evidently  robbed  from  the  lion,  as  they  were  constantly 
hunting  up  "kills."  They  seemed  very  meat-hungry,  and 
lived,  they  assured  us,  on  honey  only,  and  I  think  they 
spoke  the  truth. 

As  it  is  with  the  wild  man,  so  it  is  with  the  lions.  They 
kill,  of  course,  on  the  high  veldt,  for  a  band  of  them  can, 
during  the  night  time,  surround  a  herd,  and  so  thoroughly 
stampede  it  that  some  unfortunate  beast  must  be  dragged 
down.  But  they  try  again  and  again  before  success  comes. 
H.  has  seen  them,  vainly  hunting,  far  into  the  morning 
evidently  only  driven  to  this  useless,  proceeding,  by  dire 
hunger.  During  daylight  all  the  antelope  simply  play 
with  them,  watching  their  stealthy  approach  in  a  half  inter- 
ested sort  of  way,  and  then  easily  distancing  them.  Two 
months  ago  we  had  a  most  interesting  view  of  five  lions 
trying  to  surround  a  zebra  herd  at  nine  in  the  morning. 
So  intent  were  the  lions  that  he  and  his  man  got  two  of  them, 
but  at  no  time  were  the  zebra  in  any  danger. 

Well,  let  me  get  back  to  my  story,  and  try  to  tell  as 
well  as  I  can  of  a  ride  the  like  of  which  will  probably  never 
come  to  me  again.  There  is  simply  nothing  like  riding  a 
lion  in  the  world.  There  cannot  be,  and  soon,  very  soon, 
it  will  be  a  thing  of  the  past. 

We  started  —  H.  and  I  and  my  syce,  as  I  said  —  long 
before  sun  up,  soon,  indeed,  as  there  was  light  enough  to  see. 
We  had  camped  some  six  miles  from  the  great  swamp,  so 
that  no  noise  from  our  sefari  might  spoil  our  chances. 
Moreover,  we  had  not  fired  a  shot  near  camp  the  evening 
before.  Such  precautions  are  often  thought  unnecessary, 
but  it  is  not  so.  Lion  are  timid  in  the  extreme,  so  long 
as  they  have  a  chance  to  get  away;  it  is  when  retreat  is  cut 


HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION  175 

off,  when  wounded,  or  when  they  are  thoroughly  angered 
by  a  hard  run,  that  they  are  dangerous.  Hereabouts,  they 
have  been  hunted,  both  on  foot  and  on  horseback  a  great 
deal.  They  have  learned  that  it  is  wise  to  end  their  hunt- 
ing, soon  as  the  sun  rises.  After  that  time,  the  friendly 
swamps'  impenetrable  shelter  is  good  enough  for  them. 
Just  now  the  grass  on  the  wide  prairie  round  the  swamp, 
while  nowhere  long,  is  still  at  its  longest.  Here  and  there 
are  narrow  ridges,  on  which  it  grows  scarcely  to  two  feet 
high,  and  scattered  among  the  rocks  and  hollows,  there  are 
patches  that  will,  from  a  distance,  completely  conceal  a 
lion.  Thus  it  comes  to  pass  that  September  and  October, 
of  all  months  in  the  year,  are  the  very  best  for  riding  lion 
near  Sergoit.  There  is  enough  cover  just  to  tempt  his 
majesty  when  the  night  has  been,  for  him,  fruitless,  to  linger 
a  little  on  his  way  home.  When  the  grass  fires  have  swept 
all  the  country  as  they  will  have  done  by  December,  every 
lion  of  any  experience  is  sure  to  be  safe  in  the  dry  reed  bor- 
der of  the  damp  swamp,  half  an  hour  after  sunrise;  and 
if  anyone  would  cut  them  off  from  their  hold,  as  they  return 
from  hunting,  he  must  somehow  manage  to  be  there  by  that 
time,  too. 

Remember  sixty  lion  have  been  shot  within  sight  of 
Sergoit  in  three  years.  It  is,  therefore,  small  wonder  if 
lion  education  has  advanced  hereabouts.  I  knew  all  this, 
knew  that  all  circumstances  favoured  me,  and  hope  ran 
high  as  we  moved  out  of  camp  in  the  dim  light  of  the  delicious 
fresh  morning.  Mile  after  mile  we  rode  slowly  along, 
stopping  now  and  then,  to  search  carefully,  with  our  glasses, 
the  slopes  and  levels  before  us.  Five  miles  had  been 
passed,  and  no  lion  seen.  Now  half  a  mile  away,  the  dark 
green  papyrus  wall  stood  out  sharply  against  the  grass 
yellow,  of  the  surrounding  prairie.  "Let  us  sit  down  here 
and  have  a  good  spy,"  said  H.  "I  have  never  been  here 
yet  at  this  time  of  year  without  seeing  lion."  The  words 


176  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth  before  a  tiny  yellow  spot, 
fully  one  thousand  yards  away,  caught  his  eye  first,  and 
then  that  of  my  gunbearer  Brownie.  I  heard  Brownie 
whisper  "simba,"  and  an  instant  after  H.  clapped  the  glass 
into  his  pocket.  "A  lion  —  and  we  can  cut  him  off!  The 
going  is  splendid.  He  is  ours!" 

We  started  at  a  hard  gallop.  The  gunbearers,  of 
course,  came  along  as  fast  as  they  could,  but  were  soon  far 
behind.  But  H.  and  I  carried  our  rifles,  he  a  double  .450, 
I  the  gun  I  always  use  —  my  .350  Mauser  repeater.  Now  to 
the  naked  eye  that  yellow  spot,  above  the  yellow  grass,  on  the 
far-off  ridge,  was  visible.  He  is  watching  us,  but  cannot 
make  up  his  mind  to  run.  A  hundred  yards  more,  we  are 
within  a  third  of  a  mile  of  him  —  he  is  off!  As  he  clears 
the  grass  and  bounds  away  with  long,  clean  stride,  every 
bit  of  his  splendid  lissome  body  is  visible  —  a  full  grown 
male.  Now  it's  sit  down  and  ride  hard  as  man  and  beast 
can  go.  A  yell,  and  we  are  off!  The  horses  need  no 
urging.  They  see  their  game  and  race  for  dear  life.  He 
holds  his  own,  or  almost  his  own  for  about  half  a  mile. 
No  twining  grass  or  weeds  pull  him  back.  And  then  we 
gain  fast.  I  try  and  keep  within  a  couple  of  hundred  yards 
of  the  racers,  and  so  staunch  is  the  fine  mule  I  am  riding 
and  so  eager  is  he  not  to  be  left  behind,  that  though  in  the 
first  keen  rush  the  ponies  distance  me,  I  am  almost  holding 
my  own  now.  More  than  a  mile  and  a  half  we  have  ridden. 
I  can  see  the  lion  is  done.  Suddenly  he  halts  in  his  stride, 
he  drops  from  gallop  to  trot.  H.  is  past  him  in  an  instant. 
He  wheels  to  bay,  stands  looking  first  at  one  pony,  then  at 
the  other,  then  back  at  me.  His  retreat  is  cut  off,  and  he 
knows  it.  For  a  moment  he  lies  down  and  takes  his  breath, 
then  slowly  rises  to  his  feet.  His  tail  swinging  from  side 
to  side — which  of  the  three  of  us  shall  he  tackle?  There 
is  no  time  to  lose,  so  I  cut  him  down  with  two  shots. 

We  had  only  just  dismounted  and  were  congratulating 


HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION  177 

each  other,  when  one  of  H.'s  Massai  comes  rushing  up, 
running  as  only  a  Massai  can,  and  pants  out,  "simba." 
Sure  enough,  we  had  ridden  by  another  lion,  who  was  mak- 
ing his  way  homeward.  Doubtless  as  the  chase  tore  by, he 
crouched.  Anyway,  all  our  eyes  fixed  on  our  own  lion,  we 
never  saw  him.  But  as  the  running  men  behind  us  came 
along,  he  moved  aside,  and  now,  they  said,  he  was  making 
for  the  swamp  over  the  very  country  we  had  passed.  Would 
the  ponies  stand  it  ?  He  had  such  a  start,  more  than  a  mile, 
and  the  swamp  was  not  over  two  and  a  half  miles  away. 
Try,  anyway.  So  it's  up  and  off  again. 

Fortunately  for  us,  this  time  our  lion  didn't  hurry  him- 
self, and  not  being  pressed,  proceeded  with  some  deliber- 
ation. Still,  to  cut  him  off  from  that  green,  upstanding 
papyrus  wall,  seemed  impossible.  He  was  watching  the 
rush  of  his  enemies,  evidently,  for  as  the  ponies  were  driven, 
not  after  him,  but  at  right  angles  to  his  course,  he  came 
almost  at  them,  as  he  galloped  down  the  long  slope,  leading 
to  the  reedy  river  that  flowed  out  of  the  swamp  above. 
We  were  riding  for  all  we  were  worth,  and  as  near  to  the 
river  edge  as  we  dare  go,  he  to  our  left  on  higher  ground, 
we  below  him,  edging  minute  by  minute  more  and  more 
between  him  and  his  one  chance  of  escape.  Now  horses 
and  lion  were  done.  H.,  quite  close  by  this  time,  could 
see  his  tongue  hanging  out  like  the  tongue  of  a  fagged  dog. 
He'll  race  no  more.  He  turns  and  comes  right  down  the 
incline.  H.,  riding  finely,  makes  one  more  attempt  to 
head  him  off,  but  his  gallant  pony  is  spent,  and  boggs 
badly  in  the  soft  ground.  At  a  few  yards  distance  the  lion 
jogs  by  him,  and  H.  throws  himself  from  his  pony,  and, 
as  the  beast  almost  gains  the  outer  and  thinner  fringe 
of  reeds,  takes  a  snap  shot  at  him  in  hope  of  making  him 
turn  and  stand.  The  bullet  cut  the  flesh  of  his  hind  leg 
without  breaking  the  bone,  and  the  brave  beast  wheels  to 
it  like  a  flash,  and  growling  loudly,  advances  on  H.  I 


178  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

was  coming  up,  the  going  heavy,  just  as  fast  as  my  tired 
mule  could  gallop,  but  closer  up  I  could  not  get,  for  deeper 
and  deeper  the  bog  ground  grew,  when  I  saw  something 
was  the  matter.  H.  was  trying  to  go  backward  as  fast 
as  he  could.  His  pony,  free  of  his  weight,  was  out  of  the 
scrape,  but  H.  seemed  about  to  get  into  it.  The  lion 
was  not  coming  on  very  fast,  but  his  wound  had  angered 
him,  and  unquestionably,  he  meant  business.  Why  H. 
was  trying  to  get  away  as  fast  as  the  soft,  swampy  ground 
would  let  him,  of  course  I  could  not  tell.  In  any  case, 
I  had  to  do  my  thinking  quickly.  I  was  two  hundred 
and  fifty  yards  away  (afterward  we  measured  the  ground 
and  thought  it  three  hundred  —  a  long  distance  from  which 
to  make  a  diversion  in  my  friend's  behalf) ;  but  H.  and  the 
lion  were  getting  far  too  close  together.  I  must  do  my 
best,  and  do  it  quickly,  too.  I  threw  myself  off,  the  ground 
was  clear  of  grass  just  there.  I  could  see  all  the  length  of 
that  fine,  long  side.  I  drew  a  deep  breath  to  steady  my 
shaking  arms,  and  a  quick  sight,  aiming  well  over  the 
backbone.  "Phut!"  The  bullet  was  home  —  a  little 
far  back,  as  it  proved,  but  only  a  very  little.  Anyway,  it 
took  the  fight  out  of  him.  He  slowly  turned  round  growling, 
and  instead  of  going  farther  to  the  papyrus,  lay  quickly 
down  a  few  yards  away  in  the  long  grass  bordering  the 
stream  we  had  been  riding  along.  I  left  my  quite  beaten 
mule,  where  he  stood,  and  made  as  fast  time  to  H.'s  side 
across  the  bog  as  I  was  able.  When  I  got  there,  the  mys- 
tery of  his  retreat  was  cleared  up.  He  hadn't  had  time  to 
grasp  the  bandoleer  that  held  his  cartridges  in  the  hurry 
of  our  second  start,  and  thus  it  was  that  he  found  himself, 
after  firing  that  snap  shot  in  the  grass,  which,  fortunately, 
made  the  lion  stand,  facing  an  angry  charge  in  a  most 
disadvantageous  position,  with  only  one  bullet  in  his  gun. 
The  grass  was  rank  and  high  on  the  borders  of  the  stream 
where  his  horse  had  bogged.  He  had  a  very  poor  chance 


HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION  179 

to  make  a  good  shot,  and  the  only  thing  to  do  was  to  get 
on  firmer  ground  just  as  fast  as  he  could,  and  keep  that 
single  cartridge  till  the  lion  was  a  few  yards  away.  My 
lucky  shot  had  saved  the  situation,  which  otherwise  might 
have  been  serious  indeed,  for  though  he  would  probably 
have  stopped  the  lion,  no  man,  no  matter  how  steady  his 
nerves,  cares  to  face  a  charging  beast  with  one  cartridge. 

We  walked  up  together  to  the  little  grass  patch  that 
now  completely  hid  our  game.  We  shouted  and  waited, 
no  sign.  The  lion  was  lying  low.  To  enter  it  was  not  for 
a  moment  to  be  thought  of.  The  reeds  and  grass  grew 
seven  feet  high,  and  he  would,  though  mortally  wounded, 
have  pulled  someone  down.  As  I  said  before,  he  had  crawled 
into  a  narrow  bend  of  the  stream,  and  as  we  looked  the 
situation  rapidly  over,  I  noticed  that  on  the  other  side  of 
the  water  only  a  few  yards  away  the  bank  rose  sharply  for 
a  few  feet.  Could  we  gain  that  point  of  vantage,  I  thought 
we  had  him  at  our  mercy.  Would  he  let  us  go  quietly  by 
him,  within  a  few  yards,  wade  the  stream,  and  look  into  his 
lair  from  the  other  side  ?  We  formed  our  gunboys  silently 
into  line  across  this  possible  line  of  retreat,  and  ourselves 
stepped  through  the  edge  of  the  high  cover  down  into  the 
water  which  here  was  almost  five  feet  deep  and  running 
strong.  I  must  admit  that  for  myself  I  was  profoundly 
relieved  when  I  found  my  footing  at  last  on  the  other  bank, 
free  from  that  strangling  grass  that  hid  everything  at  three 
feet  distance.  Here  I  was  my  own  man  again.  Here, 
indeed,  all  risk  was  over,  both  for  ourselves  and  our  men, 
and  we  had  him,  at  last,  under  our  guns  not  ten  yards  away, 
and  in  a  position  from  which  we  could  at  least  partly  see 
him.  The  moment  we  stood  on  the  little  elevation,  and 
had  our  heads  at  last  above  the  grass,  the  lion  saw  us,  and 
made  his  one  last  hopeless  effort  to  come  on.  He  rose, 
swaying  from  side  to  side,  and  growling  deeply.  I  fin- 
ished him  at  once,  with  a  shot  in  the  chest. 


i8o  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Five  miles  that  morning  we  had  ridden,  fast  as  good 
horses  could  go.  Our  game  in  full  view  all  the  time,  not 
a  bush,  not  a  rock  to  hide  it  for  a  moment,  no  cover  of  any 
sort,  till  the  long  start  the  second  lion  had  on  us,  enabled 
him  to  gain  the  swampy  ground  and  bordering  reeds  that 
fringed  the  stream.  H.  said  he  never  had  had  quite  so 
ideally  perfect  a  ride,  and  as  we  again  grasped  hands  over 
our  lion,  safely  down,  we  agreed  that  there  is  not,  there 
cannot  be,  anything  in  all  the  world  quite  equal  to  riding 
lion  on  Sergoit  plain. 

As  they  lay,  the  lions  measured  nine  feet  four  inches 
and  nine  feet  five  inches:  full  grown  males. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  the  way  a  ridden  lion  advances 
on  his  enemy.  These  two,  and  the  others  that  were  ridden 
and  shot,  stood  or  laid  down  for  a  moment  to  rest  and  get 
their  wind,  and  then  rose  and  faced  us.  None  of  them 
growled  loudly,  as  did  my  first  lions  when  hit,  none  of  them 
attempted  such  a  roar  as  the  wounded  beast  that  mauled 
Mombo  gave  utterance  to,  as  he  was  roused  from  his  pain- 
ful lair,  and  came  for  his  tormentors.  These  snarled  and, 
thrusting  the  head  forward  and  the  ears  down  and  back, 
just  as  an  angry  cat  will,  advanced  rather  slowly  at  first 
with  stiff  tail.  Mr.  Hoey  who  had  killed  and  helped  to  kill 
many  lions,  tells  me  if  they  are  missed  or  only  slightly 
wounded,  they  increase  steadily  the  pace  of  their  advance. 
Generally  speaking,  lionesses  seem  to  crouch  lower  than 
lions,  and  to  come  more  quickly,  too.  This  renders  a 
really  charging  lioness  one  of  the  most  difficult  shots  that  can 
be  made.  None  of  my  lions  bounded  in,  after  being  wounded, 
except  the  first,  and  he  stopped  and  raised  his  head  at  fifty 
yards  distance  from  me.  From  what  I  can  learn  from 
those  who  not  only  shoot  steadily,  but  observe  the  beast 
they  are  shooting  at  (and  there  are  not  a  great  many  hunters 
who  really  do  this  carefully  and  constantly  —  nine  times  out 
of  ten  the  accounts  one  hears  are  the  unreliable  fancy 


HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION  181 

sketches  of  excited  men  who,  in  the  presence  of  dangerous 
game,  let  their  guns  off  as  rapidly  as  they  can  manipulate 
them),  the  advancing  lion  comes  forward  to  the  final  attack 
more  slowly  than  is  generally  supposed,  and  if  he  is  missed, 
certainly  quickens  his  pace.  He  seems  scarcely  ever  to 
charge  at  once  when  brought  to  bay,  but  needs  an  instant 
or  two  to  make  up  his  mind  as  to  which  of  his  enemies  he 
will  select.  This  instant's  delay  is,  of  course,  the  time  to 
shoot  him.  To  do  this  I  always,  when  it  was  possible,  sat 
down.  No  time  is  lost  in  sitting;  the  motion  is  very  much 
more  rapid  than  kneeling,  and  the  rest  on  both  knees 
immensely  more  steady  than  the  partial,  swaying  rest  of 
one.  The  only  disadvantage  of  the  sitting  position  is  that 
once  you  have  taken  it,  you  must  abide  by  it  for  you  cannot 
get  up  quickly.  This,  I  hold,  is  its  very  greatest  advan- 
tage. To  change  position,  and  move  around  in  the  face  of 
imminent  danger  is  folly.  It  is  straight  shooting  that  is 
wanted  then,  not  active  jumping.  There  is  another  argument 
in  favour  of  sitting  to  receive  a  charge,  that  I  think  is  worth 
considering.  The  sitting  man  does  not  attract  the  same 
amount  of  attention  as  the  man  who  stands,  jumps  about 
or  runs.  A  restive  horse  or  mule  near  by  is  far  more  likely 
to  draw  a  lioness  charge  when  wounded,  than  a  sitting 
hunter. 

Only  to-day  a  poor  fellow,  terribly  mauled  by  a  lioness, 
has  been  brought  into  Nairobi.  He  and  another  young 
fellow  rode  her.  They  rode  too  close,  the  old  story,  and 
like  a  flash  she  turned,  his  horse  bucked,  and  bursting  the 
girth,  threw  him  almost  into  her  jaws.  The  lioness  sprang 
on  the  kicking  horse,  not  on  the  semi-conscious  man. 
She  clawed  the  former,  but  it  kicked  free,  and  she  was  actually 
leaving  the  ground  when,  dazed  and  not  understanding 
the  folly  of  his  act,  the  unarmed  man  staggered  to  his  feet, 
when  she  was  on  him  in  an  instant.  Poor  boy!  Tall 
and  strong,  seven  days  of  agony  have  pulled  him  down 


1 82  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

dreadfully.  His  fine  condition  will  save  his  life,  but  I  hear 
his  left  arm  is  doomed. 

Two  men  in  the  last  three  months  have  lost  an  arm, 
and  almost  their  lives,  riding  lions.  In  both  cases  the 
same  mistake  was  made.  They  pressed  the  beast  too 
closely.  No  horse  can  turn  or  stop  as  can  a  cat.  I  have 
seen  a  cheetah  I  was  "riding"  —  an  animal  very  much 
faster  than  any  lion,  and  that  can  easily  outlast  one  — 
actually  stop  in  its  very  stride.  It  was  as  though  its  claws 
were  glued  to  the  earth.  It  did  not  seem  possible  that 
such  a  sudden  halt  could  be  called,  by  anything  that  ran. 
Nor  can  any  other  beast  show  the  desperate  speed  of  a  cat 
for  a  few  yards'  distance.  Mr.  Percivale,  the  game  warden 
of  the  Protectorate,  who  has  probably  ridden  more  lions 
than  any  man  in  the  country,  tells  me  that  he,  though  well 
mounted,  was  once  almost  pulled  down  %by  a  lion  that  he 
had  ridden  into  cover.  He,  too,  on  that  occasion,  came 
too  close,  the  lion  for  some  reason  or  other,  dispensed  with 
all  the  usual  preliminaries  and  rushed  at  him.  He  turned 
his  horse  as  quickly  as  he  could  and  rode  for  his  life.  He 
had  quite  fifty  yards  start,  and  yet  he  believes  that,  had  he 
not  fired  his  heavy  revolver  into  the  face  of  the  lion  when 
it  was  almost  on  his  horse's  hind  quarters,  both  he  and 
it  would  have  been  pulled  down.  Mr.  Percivale  was  alone. 
There  was  no  other  horse  or  hunter  near  to  divide  the 
lion's  attention  —  this,  perhaps,  may  account  for  his  very 
unusually  rapid  and  deadly  attack. 

Hoey  was  attacked  by  three  lionesses,  near  the  Rock. 
The  only  provocation  he  had  given  them  was,  that  he  had 
shot  two  hours  before,  the  lion  of  the  band.  He  was  riding 
back  to  his  camp  unarmed,  having  left  his  rifle  with  his 
gunbearer,  who  was  skinning  the  lion  he  had  killed.  The 
three  saw  him,  from  a  distance  of  quite  two  hundred  yards, 
and  pressed  him  hard,  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  He  was  rid- 
ing the  same  fast  mule  that  I  rode,  and  so  distanced  them. 


HUNTING  ELEPHANT  AND  RIDING  LION  183 

There  are  one  or  two  things  that  any  man  riding  lions 
would  do  well  to  remember:  First,  do  not  follow  a  lion  or 
lions  into  cover  if  you  are  on  horseback — not  even  thin  cover. 
Once  you  have  chased  a  lion  he  is  a  very  different  beast  from 
the  beast  that  rapidly  slinks  away  from  you  when  you  are 
hunting  on  foot.  In  this  last  case  he  instinctively  knows 
he  can  get  away  if  he  cares  to.  In  the  former,  he  finds  you 
have  the  pace  of  him,  and,  resenting  that,  he  will  attack 
with  determination.  The  second  lion  H.  and  I  rode  on 
that  memorable  morning,  when  we  chased  two  and  shot 
them  in  half  an  hour,  had  after  H/s  bullet  had  only  stung 
him,  every  chance  to  walk  into  the  impenetrable  stronghold 
of  the  river  grass,  if  he  wanted  to.  It  grew  thickly  not 
twenty  yards  from  where  he  was  first  hit.  But  he  did  not 
want  to  do  anything  of  the  sort,  and  angered  by  the  long, 
hard  chase,  and  casting  all  idea  of  further  retreat  behind 
him,  he  came  boldly  away  from  the  covert  he  had  striven 
so  strenuously  to  gain,  and  advanced  quickly  into  the  open 
to  grapple  with  his  pursuer. 

To  follow  a  lion  in  such  a  mood  into  even  short  cover, 
on  horseback,  is  to  court  death.  You  are  within  a  few 
feet  or  yards  before  you  know  it.  His  terror-striking  growl 
as  he  rushes  in  will  render  your  mount  unmanageable, 
and  make  shooting  out  of  the  question.  You  cannot 
escape,  and  are  at  his  mercy.  This  is,  of  course,  also  the 
reason  why  it  is  folly  to  ride  lion  in  grass  or  bush  country. 
You  see  one  to  ten  galloping  in  front  of  you,  next  moment 
some  of  these  have  vanished.  You  may  not  ride  into  them, 
but  you  may,  and  if  so,  you  are  done  for;  and  then,  at  best, 
you  will  do  no  more  lion  riding  that  trip. 

Second,  the  man  who  does  the  shooting  must  dis- 
mount without  delay  or  hesitation.  He  must  quickly 
choose  his  place,  fixing  it  in  his  mind  as  he  gallops  up, 
if  possible  a  spot  from  which  he  can  command  the  lion  for 
a  few  yards  every  way,  and  on  which  he  can  plump  down. 


1 84  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

If  there  is  no  such  place,  of  course  he  must  stand  up  and 
shoot.  All  delay  is  dangerous.  Get  him  before  he  rushes 
in  on  any  man  or  horse.  Any  cool  shot  can  knock  a  lion 
out,  with  one  shot,  at  one  hundred  yards  or  less.  No 
living  man  can  be  sure  of  doing  this  to  a  rushing,  charging, 
snarling  embodiment  of  death.  He  must  remember  that 
he  has  to  depend  on  himself  and  himself  alone.  The  man 
or  men  who  are  mounted  can  do  little  or  nothing  to  help 
him.  A  plunging  horse  is  a  poor  shooting  platform. 

Third,  all,  riding  a  lion,  should  ride  not  behind  him  but 
to  one  side.  You  may  not  be  too  near  as  you  gallop  along, 
but  he  can  check  his  paces  so  much  more  suddenly  than  you 
can,  that  if  you,  from  the  position  you  have  got  yourself 
into,  are  obliged  not  to  swerve  your  horse,  but  to  turn  him 
round  in  order  to  gallop  away,  you  are  in  extreme  danger 
of  coming  to  grief. 

Fourth,  remember  there  are  plenty  more  lions  in  the 
country,  even  if  you  lose  the  one  you  are  after,  and  take 
no  needless  risks.  You  may  hunt  lions  on  foot  for  months 
and  have  no  luck.  Well  mounted,  and  in  a  good  country, 
you  are  certain  to  get  them.  So  do  not  ride  too  close. 
Pull  up  at  a  hundred  yards  —  that  distance  gives  you  plenty 
of  time  to  take  five  or  six  steady  shots,  let  the  lion  come  any 
way  he  choose;  but  make  up  your  mind  beforehand  that 
steady  shots  shall  be  aimed  at  certain  spots  in  him,  and  not 
ploughing  up  the  ground  round  him,  only  angering  him, 
and  demoralizing  yourself. 

Summing  up  the  whole  matter,  no  man  can  tell  what  a 
lion  will  do,  how  he  will  come,  or  whether  he  will  come 
at  all  or  no.  He  may  die  as  tamely  as  a  house  cat,  or  he 
may  make  you  shoot  for  your  life.  And  just  here  is  the 
unequalled  fascination  a  man  experiences  in  pitting  him- 
self against  the  lion  in  East  Africa. 

Let  no  fool  persuade  you  to  think  of  shooting  from 
horseback. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ELEPHANT 

I  HAVE  been  for  days  struggling  through  swamps,  cor- 
duroying little  streams  that  seem  easy  to  cross,  till  you 
try  to  cross  them.  Then  they  swallow  the  mules  and  don- 
keys, swallow  them  down;  and  donkeys  must  come  along 
somehow,  for  donkeys  mean  "potio."  Two  fine  mountain 
ranges  looked  down  on  our  strivings  from  the  east  and  the 
west,  while  far  away  to  the  northward,  where  the  early 
morning  air  was  clear,  stood  out  the  tender  blue  outline  of 
an  unknown,  or  rather,  unmapped  mountain  chain,  rising 
above  the  Turquell  River  that  falls  into  far-away  Lake 
Rudolph. 

The  exact  whereabouts  of  my  camping  I  may  not,  in 
fairness  to  my  guide,*  disclose.  His  patient  and  persever- 
ing study  of  the  country,  and  of  the  ways  and  wander- 
ings of  the  great  elephant  herds,  should  be  as  much  his 
perquisite  as  are  my  ivories  when  I  have  shot  them.  "The 
way  in"  cannot  long  remain  unknown;  but  I  certainly  shall 
not  "give  it  away/*  and  I  am  confident  no  sportsman  will 
expect  me  to. 

Mr.  Hoey  and  I  had  worked  quite  conscientiously  for 
elephants  since  we  had  arranged  our  partnership;  had 
turned  from  no  spoor  that  was  at  all  promising,  till  all 
reasonable  chance  of  coming  up  with  our  game  was  gone. 
So  long  as  elephant  are  not  thoroughly  alarmed,  or  have 
not  had  your  wind,  or  smelt  the  sefari,  it  is  well  worth  while 
to  follow  on  and  keep  following,  even  if  the  trail  when  you 

*On  this  my  last  sefari  to  the  Nzoia  country,  I  had  secured  the  services  of  A.  C.  Hoey  (Eldama 
Ravine)  as  I  wished  to  know  the  natives  of  the  Cherangang  range,  and  also  to  ride  lion.  I  could  not 
possibly  have  found  a  better  man. 

I85 


1 86  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 


"cut"  it,  is  quite  twenty-four  hours  old.  They  may  be 
found  dozing  under  some  shade  trees  only  a  few  miles 
in  advance,  or  cooling  their  rugged  flanks  in  the  moist  mud 
of  one  of  the  numerous  marshes.  Or  they  may  be  resolutely 
forging  ahead  at  a  pace  just  a  little  faster  than  that  at  which 
your  splendidly  agile  natives  can  follow,  never  to  pause  or 
rest  or  feed,  till  some  dearly  loved  haunt  of  theirs,  known 
only  to  themsleves,  is  at  last  won. 

Following  up  spoor,  then,  is  often  trying  work,  far  harder 
work  than  the  hunter  is  called  on  to  engage  in  in  the  pursuit  of 
any  other  animal.  Of  course,  many  men  get  many  ele- 
phants without  following  up  the  trail  at  all.  They  camp 
near  some  favourite  river  crossing,  or  within  reasonable  dis- 
tance of  swampy  feeding  ground,  and  keep  their  natives 
scouring  the  country  for  news.  This  is  a  good  and,  if  you 
persist  long  enough,  a  generally  successful  plan  of  pro- 
ceeding. The  natives  of  a  district  in  which  elephant  are  to 
be  found  are  nearly  always  ready  to  lend  a  hand,  as  the  meat 
is  most  welcome  to  them.  But,  as  I  have  said  elsewhere, 
the  sefari  should  be  so  constituted  as  to  make  communi- 
cation with  the  shy  wild  man  easy.  Interpreters  are  as 
important  in  its  make-up  as  porters  and  cooks,  and  this 
the  inexperienced  stranger  is  slow  to  realize.  Here  in  this 
very  Nzoia  country,  only  a  few  months  ago,  we  missed  ele- 
phant, though  we  hunted  pretty  thoroughly  for  them  for 
three  months  all  over  it.  It  was  a  game  of  hide  and  seek. 
The  elephant  would  cross  the  river  while  we  were  at  the 
swamp,  or  spend  the  night  in  the  swamp  while  we  were 
watching  the  river.  We  never  won  over  the  N'dorobo. 
Had  we  succeeded  in  doing  so,  we  could  not  well  have 
failed  of  success.  We  had  no  one  among  us  who  knew 
either  them  or  their  language.  When  we  met  Nandi 
N'dorobo,  who  are  no  use  whatever,  but  are  only  the  wan- 
dering outcasts  of  blacklegs  of  the  Nandi  tribe  (a  flock  own- 
ing people,  having  some  affinities  to  the  Massai),  and,. 


ELEPHANT  187 

consequently,  are  but  poor  hunters,  we  could  not  distinguish 
them  from  the  Pukka  N'dorobo  of  the  Cherangang  range, 
who  are  the  very  best  hunters  in  all  the  country,  and  who 
know  every  corner  of  it.  These,  however,  on  the  other 
hand,  are  so  shy  of  strangers  that  you  must  have  secured 
the  strongest  of  introductions  to  get  near  them  at  all.  They 
are  watching  you,  you  may  be  sure  of  that.  They  keep 
themselves  well  informed  of  all  your  movements,  but 
beyond,  perhaps,  the  casual  glimpse  of  a  black  dot  of  a  head, 
seen  for  an  instant  only  above  the  grass  or  over  a  rock, 
so  far  as  you  are  concerned  they  might  be  non-existent. 

The  help  of  real  wild  men  hunters,  it  is  no  exaggeration 
to  say,  at  least  doubles  your  chances  of  success.  Promise 
them  a  blanket,  or  a  goat  or  two,  and  they  will  be  off  at  dawn, 
and  stay  away  all  night;  and  if  the  great  game  is  either  feed- 
ing or  travelling  in  your  vicinity,  you  will  in  all  probability 
learn  of  it  from  them.  Stay  in  camp  till  you  have  reliable 
news,  but  be  ready  for  a  hurried  departure  at  the  shortest 
notice  —  and  once  you  are  on  fresh  spoor,  with  capable 
trackers,  follow  on!  follow  on!  The  nights  in  the  warm 
season,  when  the  grass  is  long,  and  elephant  come  down 
from  the  mountains,  and  out  from  the  impenetrable  forests 
to  feed,  are  most  pleasant.  It  is  no  hardship  to  sleep  out. 
You  have  your  saddle  blanket,  and  your  men  quickly  put 
up  for  you  a  grass  hut,  giving  complete  shelter.  Carry 
always  some  biscuits  in  your  saddle  bag,  and  a  little  salt, 
as  well  as  a  bit  of  dried  meat.  Thus  prepared,  a  night  out 
is  a  pleasure,  and  after  it  you  will  look  forward  with  renewed 
zest  to  camp  luxuries  of  coffee  and  steaming  hot  bath,  when 
you  do  get  in. 

Of  course,  there  are  lucky  men  who  happen  on  elephant 
that  seem  to  know  they  are  to  be  killed  anyway,  and  help 
their  pursuers  to  do  it.  Elephant  will  at  times  come  down 
to  a  swamp  and  refuse,  even  by  gun  fire,  to  be  driven  from  it. 
They  will  stand  to  be  shot  down,  and  do  all  sorts  of 


1 88  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

unaccountable  things,  and  sportsmen  who  have  been  thus 
favoured  by  them,  have  often  been  known  to  say  that  ele- 
phant hunting  is  a  simple  matter.  But  ask  the  men  who 
know.  Read  such  a  book  as  poor  Newman's,  who  was  the 
greatest  elephant  hunter  East  Africa  has  ever  seen,  and  all 
say  the  same  thing.  No  sport  is  so  arduous  as  elephant 
hunting,  perhaps  none  is  so  dangerous,  though  I  think  there 
is  little  doubt  that,  for  the  relative  numbers  of  elephant  and 
lions  killed,  the  latter  take  a  larger  roll  of  human  life. 

The  denser  forest  country  of  the  Protectorate  holds  still 
a  very  large  number  of  elephant,  but  from  its  very  nature, 
it  is  of  little  use  trying  to  shoot  them  within  it.  The  breeze 
is  too  uncertain,  a  silent  approach  impossible,  and  a  resolute 
following  up  of  the  wounded  out  of  the  question.  Hoey 
has  spent  months  trying  to  kill  some  of  the  very  large  bulls 
that  bury  themselves  in  the  dense  tangles  of  the  Elgao  woods 
to  east  of  our  plateau.  He  has  secured  just  one,  and  that 
one  came  out  into  the  open  one  August  evening. 

There  is  another  element  of  danger  besides  the  elephants 
themselves  that  attends  forest  hunting  in  these  regions. 
It  is  the  game  pit.  Now  game  pits,  even  in  the  open  veldt, 
are  bad  enough.  They  are  so  cunningly  concealed  that 
an  observant  man  may  fall  into  them  and  be  quite  seriously 
hurt  —  three  of  my  men  did  so  this  trip.  But  when 
these  deadly  death  traps  are  set  in  densest  wood,  con- 
cealed by  creepers  and  heavy  shade  trees,  armed  too,  let  it 
be  remembered,  in  many  cases  with  sharp  stakes  set  so  as  to 
impale  any  unfortunate  that  falls  in,  then  commonest 
prudence  will  avoid  following  game  where  they  are  known 
to  be  used. 

Chatting  by  the  camp  fire  two  nights  ago,  we  were 
discussing  the  likelihood  of  securing  a  good  buffalo  head 
in  the  lower  ranges  of  the  Cherangang  to  the  east.  The  old 
chief  of  the  Cherangang  N'dorobo,  who  accompanies  us 
on  our  trip,  listened  for  a  time,  and  then  said:  "Yes,  there 


ELEPHANT  189 

are  many  buffalo,  but  there  are  many  game  pits  also. 
They  are  nearly  all  armed  with  sharp  stakes.  The  lower 
Cherangang  N'dorobo  will  make  them,  and  when  the  grass 
is  long,  they  take  much  meat.  But  they  are  very  dan- 
gerous to  men  as  well  as  game.  The  lower  Cherangang 
N'dorobo  are  paying  toll  still  to  me,  for  one  of  my  young 
men  staked  in  one  of  them  last  year.  Some  years  I  lose 
two  young  men,  almost  every  year  I  lose  one.  If  the 
N'dorobo  find  them  dangerous,  you  would  find  them  much 
more  dangerous.  Do  not  hunt  buffalo  or  elephant  there, 
not  at  least  till  the  grass  is  burned."  Wise  advice,  it 
seemed  to  us,  on  which  we  determined  to  act. 

H.  had  an  experience  two  years  ago  —  not  in  the  forest, 
but  in  the  comparatively  safe  ground  outside  it  —  which 
might  easily  have  been  fatal.  He  came  on  some  elephants, 
and  was  creeping  close  to  one  that  stood  on  the  other  side 
of  some  bush;  as  he  was  going  to  fire,  his  game  moved 
slowly  on  and,  at  a  few  yards  distance  he  followed,  try- 
ing for  a  shoulder  shot.  There  was  a  narrow  opening 
before  him,  wide  enough  just  to  permit  the  bulky  body  of 
the  elephant  to  pass.  To  his  astonishment  the  great  beast, 
instead  of  taking  the  evident  path  before  it,  without  paus- 
ing or  seeming  to  make  any  examination  of  the  ground, 
deliberately  trod,  not  in  the  open  space,  but  full  in  the 
middle  of  the  dense  thorny  bush  on  one  side.  Thought 
H.  to  himself,  "What  a  fool  of  a  beast.  I'll  cut  it  off, 
and  get  a  good  shot."  He  rushed  down  the  narrow  clear- 
ing to  do  so,  and  in  an  instant  was  crashing  down  into  a 
ten-foot  deep  pit,  a  cocked  double  .500  rifle  in  his  hands. 
Had  it  been  staked,  he  would  never  have  come  out  alive. 
As  it  was,  he  was  badly  hurt,  and  had  to  wait  till  his  men 
found  him,  and  dragged  him  out.  In  a  few  years  game 
hunting  by  the  N'dorobo  will  probably  be  stopped  by 
government,  though  it  seems  a  little  hard  on  these  brave 
and  independent  people,  that  customs  that  have  been 


IQO  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

theirs  from  time  immemorial  should  be  banned.  But  at 
present  they  are  utterly  uninfluenced  by  the  white  man's 
near  approach.  They  live  where  their  fathers  have  for 
ages  lived,  and  they  live  as  their  fathers  have  lived,  defend- 
ing their  mountain  homes  against  the  raiders  of  various 
tribes,  hundreds  of  times  more  numerous  than  they.  They 
dig  their  pits,  use  very  deadly  poison  on  their  arrows,  and  ele- 
phant javelins,  and  procure  what  little  iron  and  brass  they 
need,  in  exchanging  ivory  and  skins  with  the  Swahili 
traders. 

Let  us  leave  their  forest  stronghold  inviolate.  These 
will  shelter  for  many  a  year  the  breeding  elephant,  and 
though  the  N'dorobo  do  take  toll  of  the  herds,  they  will 
never  wreak  the  destruction  in  years  that  an  ivory  poacher 
would  accomplish  in  one  season. 

I  need  scarcely  say  that  all  cow  elephant  are  sacred  in 
British  territory  to-day.  Cow  ivory  is  contraband,  and 
heavy  fine  is  imposed  for  killing  a  cow.  Nor  can  bulls 
that  carry  tusks  of  less  than  sixty  pounds  to  the  pair  be  shot. 
Of  course,  careless  or  inexperienced  sportsmen  do  still 
at  times  mistake  a  cow  for  a  bull,  but  a  little  care,  and  a 
little  coolness,  are  all  that  are  necessary  to  avoid  any  such 
mistake.  The  cows  are  smaller  than  the  bulls,  and  their 
tusks  seldom  weigh  anything  like  thirty  pounds  each. 
The  one  thing  above  all  others  to  remember,  once  ele- 
phant are  located,  is  to  take  time,  and  on  no  account  rush 
in  in  a  hurry.  Make  sure  of  the  bulls.  Make  sure  of  the 
one  you  want.  Estimate  his  tusks  for  yourself,  and  then 
carefully  keep  him  in  sight  as  he  saunters  in  and  out  among 
the  crowd  of  those  you  do  not  want.  So  long  as  the  wind  is 
fair,  and  the  herd  not  alarmed,  there  is  no  reason  whatever 
for  hurry.  If  the  wind  is  steady,  keep  a  watchful  eye  out  for 
the  animals  at  either  extremity  of  the  herd.  See  that  they 
not  do  edge  in  toward  you.  In  scattered  woodland, 
stalking,  of  course,  is  easier  and  safer,  too.  Trees  and 


ELEPHANT 


191 


brush  are  a  great  assistance,  and  I  do  not  think  any  man 
can  come  up  close  to  these  monsters,  without  wishing  that 
somewhere,  near  at  hand,  might  stand  a  friendly  tree. 
Under  all  circumstances  their  sight  is  so  poor  that  they  do 
not  seem  able  to  pick  a  man  out  at  forty  yards.  In  deep 
shade  he  can  stand  still  and  remain  undetected  often  at 
twenty.  But  let  them  once  catch  your  wind,  and  they 
are  off  at  a  pace  that  baffles  the  best  footman  —  or  on  you, 
in  a  charge  that  may  be  difficult  or  impossible  to  turn  aside 
or  avoid.  A  close  shot  from  a  good  rifle  in  the  head  or  chest 
will  often  make  the  animal  receiving  it  swerve  sufficiently 
aside  to  save  the  hunter,  but  if  the  herd  move  down  in  line, 
as  they  often  do  in  the  open,  or  if  you  let  yourself  get 
between  two  herds,  your  chances  are  not  good.  A  friend  of 
mine,  a  gallant  fellow  and  a  good  shot,  saved  his  life  once 
when  so  charged  by  a  herd  of  twenty  in  the  open:  he  dropped 
his  rifle,  and  waving  his  hat  in  the  air,  danced  and  shouted 
with  all  his  might.  "But  never  again/'  said  he,  "will  I 
tackle  an  elephant  herd  in  the  open."  Another  good 
sportsman  I  know  well,  followed  too  closely  a  herd  into 
very  thick  thorn  scrub.  The  wind  was  puffy,  which  made 
his  doing  so  exceedingly  dangerous.  One  of  the  cows 
got  scent  of  him,  and  trumpeting  loudly,  charged.  She 
was  followed  in  a  rush  by  all  the  rest.  He  fired  into  the 
onrushing  mass  of  them,  but  it  was  no  use.  Tied  by  the 
thorns  he  could  not  run,  even  if  running  had  been  any  good. 
Nothing  remained  for  him  but  one  terrible  chance.  He 
threw  himself  down,  and  the  ponderous  charge  trampled 
over  him.  His  coat  was  torn  from  his  back  by  the  foot  of 
an  elephant,  but  miraculously  he  somehow  escaped  with- 
out a  scratch.  He,  too,  says  he  has  had  enough  of  elephant 
shooting. 

In  the  days  when  ivory  hunting  was  permitted,  two 
resolute  men  could  sometimes  kill  a  considerable  part  of  a 
herd.  Mr.  Newman  succeeded  once  in  driving  over  sixty 


i92  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

elephants  into  a  morass  and  securing  the  tusks  of  thirty  of 
them.  It  is  only  a  very  few  years  since  such  slaughter  was 
forbidden  in  English  territory.  Many  an  adventurous 
or  broken  man  turned  to  elephant  hunting  for  a  living, 
and  to-day  many  an  explorer  or  sportsman,  pushing  his  way 
into  the  Abyssinian  country,  expects  to  pay  a  not  incon- 
siderable part  of  his  heavy  travelling  expenses  out  of  the 
price  he  hopes  to  get  for  his  ivory.  Selous,  as  he  tells  us 
in  his  well-known  book,  made  his  living  from  ivory,  and 
Newman  was  reputed  to  have  laid  by  a  large  sum.  These 
and  all  other  ivory  hunters  killed  everything,  big  and  small, 
cow  and  bull,  that  carried  tusks.  If  ivory  averaged  them 
ten  shillings  a  pound,  and  their  animals  averaged  them 
sixty  pounds  the  pair  of  tusks,  each  elephant  would  mean 
£30  —  a  large  sum.  But  when  the  outlay  that  was  neces- 
sary is  taken  into  account,  the  long  distances  food  had  to 
be  carried,  the  great  journeys  made,  the  preparations  for 
defence  against  uncertain  or  warlike  tribes,  but  little  profit 
remained  to  most  of  them.  In  the  Protectorate,  under 
present  government  regulations,  no  one  can  kill  elephant 
unless  a  £50  licence  is  taken  out.  This  permits  the  holder 
to  shoot  two.  A  third  he  can  take,  on  his  paying  £15  extra. 
It  seems  to  me  that  these  restrictions  are  not  sufficient. 
Many  an  idle  man  is  now  tempted,  when  word  reaches 
him  at  Nairobi  or  elsewhere,  that  elephant  are  in  some 
approachable  locality,  to  take  out  a  licence  and  enter  on  a 
small  speculation  to  the  amount  of  £50.  He  seldom 
covers  his  expenses,  it  is  true,  but  surely  no  good  is  gained 
by  encouraging  his  onslaught  on  the  fast  disappearing  game. 
I  should  advocate  the  issue  of  a  special  permit  costing 
£100  to  kill  two  elephants  in  the  Protectorate,  and  so  check 
the  present  very  prevalent  custom  among  settlers  and 
loafers,  of  trying  to  make  a  little  money  each  year  from  their 
slaughter.  Many  poor  beasts  go  away  wounded,  and  there 
is  no  doubt  at  all  that  some  undersized  tusks  are  taken  and 


ELEPHANT  193 

traded  or  hidden  in  this  way.  A  man  paying  £50  for  a 
licence  to  kill  two  elephant,  and  who  goes  after  them, 
hoping  not  only  to  cover  his  expenses  but  to  make  money, 
cannot  afford  to  pay  the  fine  imposed  for  shooting  under- 
sized tusks,  nor  can  he  be  contented  with  small  ivory. 
The  temptation  in  his  case  is  very  great  therefore,  to  leave 
elephants  he  has  killed,  if  they  are  small,  and  go  on  shoot- 
ing till  he  has  secured  animals  that  pay  him. 

The  elephant  herds  are  comparatively  few  and  small, 
their  range  comparatively  restricted,  and  there  is  good  reason 
for  preserving  them.  In  Uganda  the  case  is  very  different. 
There  elephant  still  are  found  in  immense  numbers,  and 
there  they  do,  in  a  cultivated  country,  very  great  damage. 
The  natives  are  not  permitted  to  shoot  or  trap  them,  but 
there  is  no  penalty  for  trading  in  ivory,  as  there  is  here. 
Such  regulations  have  created  an  anomalous  condition. 
The  honest  native  protests  against  the  wholesale  ruin  brought 
on  his  shamba,  by  beasts  he  is  not  permitted  to  kill,  while 
the  very  officers  who  rule  the  country  may,  if  they  choose, 
and  sometimes  they  do  choose,  trade  to  their  profit  in  ivory. 
The  Swahili  traders  go  everywhere  trying  to  buy  tusks, 
and  carry  evil  and  disease  with  them  wherever  they  go. 
Surely  the  whole  situation  needs  reviewing  and  rearranging. 
The  two  governments  should  act  together.  Here,  where 
I  have  been  travelling,  on  the  Uganda  border,  there  is  no 
semblance  of  control  on  such  a  traffic.  Any  number  of 
tusks  killed  thereabouts  could  with  utmost  ease  be  taken 
over  the  long,  imaginary  frontier  line,  and  no  man  but  the 
unscrupulous  trader  be  the  wiser  for  it. 

Something  must  be  done  in  Uganda,  for  the  herds  are 
on  the  increase  and  the  damage  they  do  is  great.  White  men, 
if  they  are  not  professional  hunters,  will  not,  in  large  numbers 
face  the  risks  of  the  climate,  so  long  as  elephants,  even 
smaller  ones,  can  be  secured  in  the  healthy  uplands  of 
British  East  Africa.  Professional  hunters  cannot  possibly 


1 94  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

pay  their  expenses  if  they  are  limited  to  three  bulls.  It 
would  seem  to  be  a  wise  thing  to  license  certain  well-known 
men  to  kill,  within  certain  districts  in  Uganda,  a  given  num- 
ber, and  to  trade  ivory  of  reasonable  size,  they  depositing 
in  the  government's  hands  a  considerable  sum  —  say, 
£300  as  their  guarantee.  A  very  substantial  licence  fee 
would  be  paid,  and  the  gain  to  the  government  and  the 
province  would  be  considerable,  for  the  ordinary  ivory 
trader,  getting  his  ivory  as  he  can,  whether  it  has  been 
smuggled  over  the  frontier  or  killed  by  natives  who  have 
no  right  to  kill  it,  is  nothing  less  than  a  cause  of  evil  and 
demoralization  wherever  he  goes. 

Modern  rifles  are  so  deadly  that  one  or  two  shots,  if 
the  elephant  are  standing,  bring  them  down.  But  those 
shots  must  reach  certain  vital  spots  in  the  vast  bulk,  and 
many,  forgetting  this,  confused  by  the  very  size  of  their 
mark,  only  wound  and  fail  to  kill.  Perhaps  the  surest 
shot  of  all  is  the  shot  between  the  eye  and  the  ear,  nearer 
the  ear,  and  if  you  are  standing  so  close  as  to  be  obliged  to 
shoot  upward,  lower  than  a  line  drawn  between  them  — 
for  of  course,  the  bullet  travels  upward.  The  African 
•elephant's  brain  is  very  small,  and  protected  by  heavy 
bone  formations.  Look  at  him  as  he  faces  you,  and  there 
is  no  palpable  place  to  aim  at,  as  in  the  Indian  elephant. 
He  can  be  killed,  and  quickly,  by  the  frontal  shot,  but  that 
shot  must  be  aimed  well  below  the  eyes  where  the  trunk  and 
head  join.  There  the  cellular  structure  of  the  skull  per- 
mits a  solid  bullet  to  pass  through  quite  a  lot  of  light  pack- 
ing, as  it  were,  straight  to  the  little  brain.  Full  in  the 
middle  between  the  tusks  the  ball  must  strike,  in  order 
to  kill,  and  there  must  be  behind  it  the  driving  power  of  a 
good  charge.  As  I  have  looked  elephants  full  in  the  face 
at  thirty  yards  distance  (I  don't  care  for  a  nearer  front 
view)  the  mark  seems  a  small  one  to  me,  and  unless  the 
animal  was  on  top  of  me,  I  should  prefer  to  take  him  low 


ELEPHANT 


'95 


down  in  the  chest.  The  eye  and  ear  shot  is  easier,  if  only 
he  holds  his  head  steady  for  a  moment,  though  that  mark 
too,  is  not  large.  Care  must  be  taken  to  shoot  below  the 
line  of  eye  and  ear  as  the  bullet  will  range  upward.  I 
repeat  this,  as  again  and  again  good  men  shoot  too  high 
for  this  shot,  and  then  the  bullet  does  no  permanent  harm. 
He  may  stagger  to  the  blow,  but  is  soon  going  off,  and 
going  strong.  As  he  swings  straight  away  from  you  there  is  a 
good  shot  to  be  had,  one  of  the  easiest,  one  of  the  deadliest 
—  and,  strangely  enough,  one  seldom  taken.  His  spine 
makes  a  great  curve  from  its  highest  point  in  the  centre 
of  the  back  down  to  the  root  of  the  tail,  six  or  seven  feet 
long  this  curve  extends,  and  the  vertebrate  column  is  fully 
ten  inches  across.  Land  a  bullet  in  it  and  he  comes  to  a 
halt.  It  is  a  big,  fair  mark.  High  up  in  the  hump  of  his 
mighty  shoulders  is  another  vital  spot.  If  you  are  stand- 
ing alongside,  and  grass  and  bushes  are  so  high  that  a  clear 
view  of  the  shoulder  cannot  be  had,  here  his  backbone 
is  at  the  very  widest  where  the  shoulders  rise  to  it.  Two 
feet  six  inches  or  three  feet  from  the  top  of  his  back 
straight  above  his  legs  —  put  a  bullet  there  and  he  falls 
like  a  log. 

But  I  have  reserved  for  the  last  place  my  final  hints,  if 
I  may  modestly  offer  them.  The  shoulder,  or  just  behind 
the  kink  of  his  big  foreleg  is  the  easiest  mark  and  quite 
deadly  enough.  There  lies  the  great  heart,  quite  as  big  as  a 
large  water  bucket,  and  any  man  who  keeps  his  wits  about 
him,  and  fires  from  broadside,  can  hit  it.  Let  anyone 
examine  the  skeleton  carefully,  or  stand  by  while  the 
carcass  is  being  cut  into,  or  cut  up,  and  he  can  satisfy  him- 
self on  these  points  I  have  named.  The  trouble  generally 
is,  men  fire  wildly  at  the  vast  mass,  plant  bullet  after  bullet 
somewhere.  They  really  don't  know  where  —  and  then 
go  away  and  insist  that  an  elephant  cannot  usually  be  killed 
without  great  expenditure  of  ammunition.  At  thirty  yards, 


196  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

not  too  near  at  all  for  a  shot  in  cover,  if  the  elephant  is  three- 
quarters  facing  you,  you  can  easily  send  your  450  through 
the  shoulder  into  the  heart,  and  he  will  not  travel  one 
hundred  yards,  and,  what  is  important,  you  have  no  more 
need  to  fear  his  charge. 

Most  shots  in  the  side  fail  for  two  reasons  —  they  are 
too  far  back,  and  they  are  too  high.  Few  hunters  seem 
to  take  the  trouble  to  stand  by  the  bloody,  high-smelling 
mass,  and  wait  till  they  see  for  themselves  how  far  forward 
the  heart  lies,  and  how  low  down.  When  a  boy  I  had, 
of  course,  read  Sir  Samuel  Baker's  sometimes  extraordinary 
stories  of  the  impossibility  of  quickly  killing  elephant.  I 
remember  well  handling  with  reverence  in  Riley's  gun 
store,  in  Oxford  Street,  his  famous  elephant  gun,  which 
he  nicknamed  the  "Baby."  It  took  a  half-pound  shell, 
if  I  remember  rightly,  and  I  do  not  dare  to  say  what  was 
its  powder  charge.  It  certainly  did  damage  at  the  butt  end, 
whatever  it  did  at  the  muzzle.  Selous  was,  I  think,  the 
first  man  to  try  a  small  bore  .450  on  elephant.*  He  did  so 
because  one  of  his  other  rifles  was  not  to  hand  when  he 
wanted  it.  Thereafter  he  used  that  calibre  constantly. 
Then  came  the  day  of  real  small  bores,  the  .303  English 
gun.  Men  found  that  rhino  and  elephant  came  down  to 
well-planted  shots  from  even  that  inferior  weapon. 

To-day  no  one  who  has  had  experience  burdens  him- 
self any  longer  with  the  old-fashioned  heavy  rifles  that 
were  for  so  long  deemed  indispensable.  I  think  that 
shortly  the  use  of  even  a  .500  or  .577  cordite  rifle  will  be 
uncommon.  They  are  not  needed.  Any  good  rifle  with 
a  powerful  powder  charge  will  kill  an  elephant  stone  dead 
if  the  bullet,  however  small,  is  planted  in  the  brain.  It 

*  This  was  of  course  a  black  powder  gun,  very  different  from  the  cordite  .450  of  to-day.  But  in 
Selous's  time,  and  in  the  country  he  hunted,  you  could  ride  elephants  on  a  trained  pony,  galloping 
up  to  them,  and  galloping  away.  There  was  no  need  for  the  stealthy  approach.  You  easily  escaped 
the  charge.  In  East  Africa  elephant  hunting  is  no  such  simple  matter.  The  odds  are  much  more.  Even 
to-day  many  are  maimed  or  killed  and  elephants  that  have  been  much  hunted  are  very  dangerous. 


ELEPHANT 


'97 


is  quite  common  to  shoot  in  this  way  the  largest  bulls,  even 
with  the  tiny  .256  Mannlicher,  or  the  .276  Mauser  rifle. 
I  have  known  an  elephant  to  fall  dead  within  two  hun- 
dred yards  to  one  shot  from  a  .256  Mannlicher  that  pene- 
trated the  whole  length  of  the  body  from  behind,  and  at 
last  lodged  in  the  heart.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  still 
quite  easy,  even  with  the  most  powerful  of  modern  rifles, 
to  plaster  an  unfortunate  beast  all  over  with  bullets,  and 
not  to  bring  him  down.  Twenty  large  bullets  were  fired 
into  one  bull  by  my  friend's  professional  hunter  and  his 
gunbearers  before  the  poor  beast  fell.  I  amused  myself 
on  several  occasions  after  I  had  secured  my  elephants,  by 
stalking  close  up  to  beasts  I  did  not  wish  to  kill,  and  think- 
ing how  and  where  I  should  shoot  them,  if  I  did  wish  to  kill. 
I  seldom  found  them  holding  their  great  heads  steady  enough 
for  me  at  least  to  attempt  the  head  shot.  Either  they  were 
feeding,  or  whisking  away  the  flies,  or  there  were  branches 
or  cover  between,  whereas  the  shoulder,  or  the  spine  shot 
offer  a  target  so  large  that  it  can  easily  be  hit  even  in  a 
moving  elephant. 

The  great  home  of  the  elephant  is  in  the  Congo.  There 
just  now  many  hunters,  some  licensed,  and  most  of  them 
not,  are  bending  their  steps.  The  old  regime  is  over. 
The  king  of  the  Belgians'  authority  has  been  superseded, 
and  the  new  rulers  of  the  country  are  not  on  the  ground. 
I  believe  a  case  of  champagne,  falling  into  appreciative 
hands,  has  been  known  to  remove  obstacles  hitherto  deemed 
insuperable.  As  much  as  two  tons  of  ivory  have  been  lately 
taken  out  of  the  Congo  by  one  hunter  in  four  months. 
There  are  reports  flying  about  of  even  larger  kills.  They 
say  that  elephant  there  are  not  so  dangerous  as  with  us  in  the 
Protectorate,  and  certainly  there  do  not  seem  to  be  any- 
thing like  the  same  number  of  fatalities  among  Congo 
hunters  that  there  are  among  men  following  elephant 
in  Uganda  or  the  Protectorate.  It  may  be  that  those  who 


1 98  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

set  out  for  the  farther  country  are  generally  more  experi- 
enced, men  who  have  studied  the  dangerous  game  against 
which  they  pit  their  lives.  Here  accidents  keep  happening 
because  anyone  who  can  borrow  a  gun  and  take  out  a 
licence  fancies  himself  capable  of  elephant  hunting.  Tak- 
ing little  notice  of  wind  or  cover  as  they  do,  the  marvel  is 
that  so  many  escape.  A  man  is  a  fool  to  take  any  liberty 
with  an  elephant. 

So  long  as  ivory  fetches  the  price  it  does,  and  it  must 
increase  rather  than  diminish  in  value,  it  will  prove  a  sore 
temptation  to  a  poor  man,  finding  himself  in  elephant 
country,  not  to  attempt  to  pay  off  at  one  stroke  the  heavy 
price  of  his  shooting  licence.  It  is  for  that  reason  that 
I  think  sportsmen  should  welcome  any  legislation  that 
places  the  elephant  in  a  class  by  himself,  and  makes 
the  man  who  wants  to  shoot  one  or  two  in  British  East 
Africa,  where  they  do  no  damage,  and  are  not  too  plenti- 
ful, pay  heavily  for  the  privilege.  (Uganda  elephants 
are  another  matter.)  It  seems  rather  a  hardship,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  prevent  the  native  hunter  who  for  ages 
has  taken  his  modest  toll  of  the  herds,  and  certainly 
has  not  destroyed  them,  from  doing  as  his  fathers  before 
him  have  done,  just  because  rich  sportsmen  want  all  the 
fun,  and  the  ivory  too. 

Allow  him  to  trade  his  occasional  tusk  if  it  is  sizable. 
Forbid  him  otherwise  to  trade  at  all.  Employ  the  right 
sort  of  traders  to  trade  with  him,  and  grant  licences  for 
such  trade.  Do  this  and  the  law  will  enforce  itself,  and 
small  ivory  and  cow  ivory  will  not  be  killed.  Instead  of 
prohibiting  all  ivory  trading,  which  can  never  be  stopped, 
give  an  opening  to  honest  men  to  do  the  trading.  There 
will  be  no  difficulty  in  finding  them,  for  there  is  money 
in  the  business.  At  present  the  Kikuyu,  N'dorobo,  and 
other  tribes  have  hundreds  of  tusks  of  buried  ivory  only 
waiting  the  coming  of  the  unscrupulous  ivory  runner. 


ELEPHANT  199 

He  is  the  very  last  man  who  should  be  encouraged  to  have 
any  dealings  with  the  native. 

So  far  as  I  could  learn,  the  two  small  bands  of  Cheran- 
gang  N'dorobo,  kill  about  one  or  two  elephants  to  each  band 
yearly.  The  Elgao  perhaps  as  many  more.  Some  of  the 
old  men  tell  me  they  have  killed  forty.  This  is  probably 
an  outside  number. 

H.  and  I  had  determined  to  try  and  make  our  way  into 
a  new  country,  not  a  very  extensive  one,  still  a  region  so 
guarded  by  river  and  swamp  that  our  N'dorobo  declared, 
and  we  believed  truly,  no  rifle  shot  had  been  heard  within 
it  for  ages.  They  declared  that  when  the  herds  were 
chased  off  the  Nzoia  plateau,  they  went  to  this  place  and 
stayed  there  or  near  by  for  a  long  time.  There  they  would 
show  us  elephant  "like  the  grass"  —  a  term  they  always 
use  when  they  speak  of  large  numbers. 

We  had  had  two  very  hard  and  unavailing  "follow  up" 
rides.  On  each  day  we  must  have  covered  not  less  than 
thirty-five  miles,  and  this  is  enough  for  a  day's  going  under 
an  equatorial  sun.  One  day  the  herd  separated,  and  on 
hard  ground  we  lost  them.  On  the  second,  a  fine  herd 
headed  straight  for  where  J.  J.  W.  and  his  hunter  were 
waiting  for  them,  so  once  we  had  assured  ourselves  of  where 
they  were  going,  we  turned  away  from  a  fresh  spoor.  We 
had  our  difficulties  to  overcome,  of  course;  we  expected  as 
much,  the  heavy  work  falling  on  H.,  my  weak  knee 
rendering  it  difficult  for  me  to  do  more  than  look  after 
myself.  I  could  not  swim,  for  fear  of  putting  it  out  again, 
but  we  managed  to  flounder  through  somehow.  Here  let 
me  say  a  word  about  what  you  can  and  cannot  get  natives 
to  do  for  you,  when  you  are  in  a  difficult  country.  They 
know  the  country  well  —  so  much  is  a  matter  of  course. 
But  though  they  do,  once  they  find  themselves  in  the  com- 
pany of  the  "bwana"  (white  master)  nothing  seems  to  induce 
them  to  take  the  initiative.  Is  there  a  bad  swamp  to  be 


200  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

crossed  ?  They  will  wander  aimlessly  along  its  side,  or 
gaze  at  its  quagmire  hopelessly.  You  must  decide  the 
line  of  country,  you  must  select  the  crossing.  Were  they 
by  themselves  they  can  go  ahead.  If  you  are  present, 
you  must  go  ahead,  or,  if  not,  minutely  direct  them  where 
to  go.  They  are  of  course  utterly  ignorant  of  how  to  get 
a  mule  or  an  ass  over.  They  know  where  they  want  to  go; 
they  know  where  the  game  is  likely  to  be,  and  where  its 
long,  tortuous  ramblings  will  probably  end;  and  in  these 
matters  they  are  to  you  of  inestimable  value.  The  rest 
you  must  do  for  yourself.  We  found  ourselves  after  a  time 
in  a  country  that  certainly  had  every  appearance  of  being 
the  undisturbed  home  of  many  elephant  bands.  The 
broad  tracks  of  herds,  and  the  single  ones  of  bulls,  crossed 
and  recrossed  each  other.  The  thorn  trees  had  been  much 
fed  on.  The  high  grass  was  trampled  and  eaten.  Still  we 
had  come  to  no  fresh  sign  for  two  days. 

One  morning  in  early  October,  surely  a  red  letter  day, 
we  broke  camp  very  early  and  had  ridden  about  three  hours 
through  a  swampy  country  when,  suddenly,  without  any 
warning,  I  heard  a  far-off,  shrill  note  blown.  It  sounded 
more  like  the  clear  note  of  a  high  organ  stop  than  anything 
else  I  can  think  of.  H.  had  said  to  me,  not  five  minutes 
before,  "This  is  the  first  morning  we  have  had  in  ten  days 
that  I  should  call  a  really  good  morning  for  elephant  hunt- 
ing. The  breeze  is  fine  and  steady." 

Here  at  last  were  the  elephant.  Here  in  their  own 
chosen  home,  not  harried  by  Boer  settler  on  the  plateau 
or  hunting  sefari,  but  resting  in  their  own  land,  under  the 
shadow  of  the  great  mountain  that  had  sheltered  their 
herds  for  countless  thousands  of  years.  Here,  safe  from  all 
harm,  amid  solitudes  that  had  seldom  echoed  a  rifle  shot, 
it  seemed  like  vandalism  to  enter.  But  the  truth  must 
be  told  —  to  be  the  first  there  but  added  to  the  zest  of 
entrance,  something  of  the  barbarian  charm  of  conquest. 


1.  Elephant  herd.     Photographed  by  W.    A.    Bowring.    Presented   to 

the  author  by  C.  C.  Bowring,  C.  M.  G. 

2.  Elephant  ford  on  the  Nzoia 


ELEPHANT  201 

The  shrill,  carrying,  but  far  from  unmusical  sound 
was  borne  to  us  on  the  cool  morning  breeze  from  a  distance 
of  quite  a  mile,  and,  strange  to  say,  whether  it  was  that 
they  recognized  the  note,  or  sniffed  the  wind  tainted  with  the 
smell  they  fear,  our  mules  resolutely  refused  to  be  led  or 
driven  one  foot  nearer.  So  we  left  them  there,  and  went 
forward  on  foot. 

Crowning  the  next  swell  of  ridge,  standing  sleepily  under 
the  shady  trees,  we  saw  some  twenty  great  black  backs  ris- 
ing above  the  yellow  grass,  and  outlined  against  the  sky. 
Somehow,  as  they  solemnly  and  slowly  moved  forward,  for 
they  didn't  stand  still  for  long,  ploughing  their  way  through 
the  rank  grass,  yellow  as  ripe  wheat,  they  reminded  me  of 
nothing  so  much  as  the  big  black  whales  I  had  rowed  up  to, 
on  the  lower  St.  Lawrence.  The  herd  —  we  now  saw  they 
numbered  about  thirty  —  moved  out  of  all  cover  into  the 
wide  prairie.  But  they  were  far  from  suspecting  any  dan- 
ger, and  had  evidently  no  idea  of  travelling.  They  amused 
themselves  by  tearing  great  wisps  of  the  grass  and  throwing 
them  over  their  own  and  their  friends'  shoulders,  and 
spouting  red  dusty  showers  on  each  other.  The  finely 
curving  trunks  often  touched,  and  were  slowly  carried  from 
side  to  side,  or  round  the  little  black  totos  that,  almost 
invisible,  in  the  tall  grass,  moved  along  by  their  mothers' 
sides. 

As  I  mounted  the  ridge  the  elephants  had  slowly  left, 
a  wonderful  prospect  opened  before  me.  On  my  left  hand, 
deep  purple  masses  of  virgin  forest  sloped  down  from 
mighty  Elgon  to  the  wide  yellow  plain,  now  clothed  with 
golden  .waving  grass  six  feet  high.  Before  me  for  mile 
after  mile  those  grass  lands  spread,  bounded  only  on  my 
right  hand  by  the  other  great  woodlands  that  fell  down- 
ward from  the  mountain  range  to  the  east.  Here  at  last 
was  the  home  of  the  elephant,  and  as  I  stood  on  its  threshold 
that  glorious  October  morning,  down  from  their  inviolable 


202  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

fastnesses  of  the  mountain,  came  not  one,  but  three  herds 
in  stately  march  before  me. 

I  stood  a  long  time  on  the  ridge's  crest  and  tried  to  fix 
the  panorama  in  my  memory.  Here  was  Africa  indeed. 
The  Africa  of  my  dreams.  Africa  that  had  been  hedged 
off,  hidden  away  from  the  busy  movements,  the  all-changing 
activities  of  restless  man.  The  Africa  that  had  known  no 
change  for  thousands  and  thousands  of  years.  Here  it 
lay  at  last  at  my  feet.  It  waited  for  me.  I  had  come  a 
long  way  to  see  it,  and  that  morning's  view  well  repaid 
the  toil. 

After  carefully  examining  all  three  herds,  there  must 
have  been  more  than  one  hundred  elephants  in  them  — 
we  concluded  that  there  was  not  an  extraordinary  big 
tusker  in  the  lot.  And  this  was  not  to  be  wondered  at, 
as  very  large  and  old  bulls  seldom  are  permitted  to  keep  in 
the  herd,  and  so  are  usually  found  alone. 

The  wind,  as  I  said,  was  steady  and  fair  for  us.  But 
the  herds  stood  in  such  relation  the  one  to  the  other,  that  it 
was  impossible  to  pass  between  them.  Had  we  attempted 
to  do  so,  we  should  have  been  quickly  inclosed.  There 
were  no  specially  large  tusks  in  the  farther  groups,  so  I 
determined  to  take  two  quite  good-sized  bulls,  who  led  the 
herd  we  had  first  seen.  And  now  the  last  hundred  yards 
of  approach  alone  remained,  and,  keeping  well  down  yard 
by  yard,  we  drew  near. 

I  had  often  been  told  by  men  who  had  shot  many  ele- 
phant, that  everyone's  knees  felt  a  bit  weak  when,  for  the 
first  time,  he  stalked  close  for  the  shot.  I  cannot  honestly 
say  I  had  any  such  feeling.  A  thought  of  the  presumption 
of  it  all  did  come  to  me,  as  higher  and  higher  the  black 
bulks  towered.  What  pigmies  we  were!  And  what  mere 
popguns  our  rifles  seemed.  How  could  we  harm  creatures 
as  mighty  as  these  ?  Why  did  they  not  move  forward  in  a 
body  and  crush  us  into  the  very  earth  ?  Had  they  wished 


ELEPHANT  203 

to  do  it,  nothing  could  prevent  them.  No  tree,  no  shelter, 
no  hiding  place  of  any  sort.  As  the  black  bulk  of  the  herd 
rose  above  me,  I  felt  as  a  man  might  feel  who  proposed  to 
himself  to  shoot  into  one  of  our  high  New  York  Central 
locomotives,  with  about  as  much  chance  of  knocking 
it  off  the  line,  as  he  had  of  bringing  down  this  mountain 
of  black  life. 

When  we  had  crawled  within  about  fifty  yards,  there 
was,  for  some  cause  or  other,  a  movement  in  the  long  black 
line.  It  grew  longer,  stretched  out,  and  for  a  moment  or 
two  threatened  to  bend  inwards  toward  us  at  each  end. 
The  elephants  seemed  to  suspect  something,  and  the  curv- 
ing trunks  were  held  high  in  air,  and  the  great  black  ears 
rose  upright  at  right  angles  to  the  heads,  standing  out  on 
either  side  like  sails  of  a  boat  running  dead  before  the  wind, 
and  going  "wing  and  wing." 

We  had,  naturally,  an  anxious  time  of  it  for  those  few 
moments  as  we  crouched  watchfully  in  the  grass.  Any 
flank  movement  of  the  herd  would  give  it  our  wind,  and 
they  then  would  come  down  on  us,  or  rush  away.  Their 
suspicions  died  down,  and  they  again  stood  still. 

Now  was  our  time.  Perhaps  fifteen  yards  nearer  we 
pressed.  I  was,  of  course,  to  do  the  shooting,  H.  to  fire 
after  me.  My  bull  kept  moving  his  head  up  and  down,  so 
I  determined,  rather  than  risk  the  head  shot,  to  take  him  in 
the  shoulder  and  well  forward.  I  picked  my  spot  and  fired, 
H.  firing  immediately  afterward. 

Then  arose  pandemonium!  First  they  all  seemed  to 
rush  together,  then  wheel  outward,  facing  in  all  directions. 
Then  such  trumpeting  and  noise  of  mingled  cries!  My 
bull  stood  for  a  moment,  and  as  he  wheeled  I  shot  him 
again,  when,  to  my  surprise,  I  admit,  he  crashed  to  earth 
with  a  rumbling  noise,  and  never  seemed  to  stir  again. 
Now  the  herd  swayed  and  rocked,  all  huddled  together. 
At  one  moment  it  looked  as  if  they  would  sweep  forward, 


204  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

next  they  swayed  backward.  We  reloaded  fast  as  we  could, 
and  I  fired  again  at  the  second  bull,  and  it  was,  I  think,  well 
that  we  did  so,  for  this  seemed  to  decide  them  and  they 
rushed  off. 

We  ran  after,  fast  as  the  high  tangle  allowed  us,  and  in 
five  hundred  yards  came  on  them  again,  all  standing  head- 
ing our  way.  These  elephants  had  probably  never  heard  a 
gun,  and  this  would  account  for  their  standing  as  they  did 
after  our  shooting.  But  by  now  they  were  very  watchful, 
evidently  trying  hard  to  make  us  out  and  get  our  wind. 
But  the  merciful  breeze  kept  steady.  We  drew  up  as  close  as 
we  dared,  not  nearer  than  seventy  or  eighty  yards  this 
time,  and  tried  to  pick  out  the  second  wounded  bull.  But 
the  cows  covered  him,  and  an  adventurous  young  bull 
-came  forward  by  himself,  evidently  bent  on  mischief.  He 
walked  out  of  the  herd,  his  trunk  held  high,  and,  looking 
very  ugly  indeed,  sharper-eyed  than  the  others,  he  must 
have  been,  for  he  came  perfectly  straight.  We  let  him 
•come  as  near  as  we  dared,  for  I  certainly  didn't  want  him, 
as  his  tusks  were  much  smaller  than  the  other  two.  No 
sign  of  turning  about  in  him.  He  now  saw  us  plainly, 
and  was  coming  right  into  us  -when  two  bullets  took  him 
full  in  the  heart  and  he  fell  in  his  tracks.  At  his  fall  there 
was  more  rushing  hither  and  thither  of  the  bewildered  and 
angered  herd,  and  both  H.  and  I  began  to  wish  we  were  in 
sparsely  wooded  country,  and  not  on  a  shelterless  plain. 
Nothing  could,  be  done,  absolutely  nothing  but  to  be  still 
and  let  them  quiet  down,  then  follow  up  our  wounded  bull. 
As  we  anxiously  waited,  he  came  out  our  way  slowly  head- 
ing to  our  right  —  a  very  big  fellow,  with  good  ivory  on  one 
side,  and  on  the  other  a  stumpy,  heavy  tusk  broken  off. 
Again  as  crawled  as  near  as  I  dared,  and  saw  close  above  me 
his  great  black  side,  I  could  not  help  thinking  what  a  game 
-of  bluff  it  was,  but  he  offered  me  a  fine  broadside,  and 
crashed  down  to  the  shot. 


ELEPHANT  205 

Both  leaders  had  fallen,  and  those  elephant  stood  with- 
out moving  ten  yards  for,  I  should  say,  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
while  we  profoundly  wished  they  would  take  their  leave  and 
let  us  crawl  away.  I  tried  once  more  to  get  near  enoughr 
to  take  a  good  photograph,  while  H.  came  alongside  cover- 
ing me  with  his  rifle,  but  before  I  got  within  fifty  yards 
the  cows  screamed  so,  and  so  evidently  were  ready  to  charge 
in  a  body  that  I  had  to  content  myself  with,  I  fear,  an 
unsatisfactory  "snap." 

At  last  they  began  to  move  —  very  slowly  indeed  —  and 
as  they  went  one  way  we  gladly  crawled  the  other.  Three 
bulls  down,  two  of  them  moving  more  than  twenty  yards 
after  the  shot  —  we  had  been  fortunate  indeed  and  we  knew 
it.  In  an  hour  or  two  the  herds  had  moved  about  two 
miles  away.  Some  were  feeding,  others  settling  down  into 
the  long  line  formation  that  means  travelling  —  were 
beginning  what  was  doubtless  to  be  a  steady  march  across 
country,  to  the  blue  escarpment  on  the  east. 

We  camped  the  sefari  and  had  our  tea.  I  never  enjoyed 
it  more.  Some  of  the  elephants  only  travelled  for  a  few 
hours  after  our  attack  on  them,  and  then  headed  back  to 
an  extensive  patch  of  thorny  country  not  more  than  five 
miles  from  our  camp.  It  was  easy  to  keep  in  touch  with 
them  by  means  of  our  N'dorobo.  They  remained  feeding 
on  the  mimosa  shoots  for  another  couple  of  days,  before 
leaving  for  the  nearest  forest  land  to  the  eastward. 

The  last  evening  we  were  camped  to  the  northeast  of 
Elgon,  one  of  our  wild  men  came  in  saying  that  a  herd 
was  making  its  way  campward.  We  started  off  imme- 
diately, and  John,  my  tent  boy,  who  in  all  his  far  wander- 
ings had  never  seen  an  elephant,  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
come  along.  It  was  one  of  those  evenings  one  loves  to 
remember.  The  heat  of  the  day  was  over,  and  a  steady 
soft  breeze,  fragrant  from  its  passage  over  wide  stretches 
of  blossoming  mimosa  thorn,  on  which  prickly  delicacies 


2o6  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

the  great  beasts  love  above  everything  to  feed,  made  walk- 
ing delightful. 

We  soon  had  them  in  view  and  the  stalk  was  an  easy 
one,  though,  since  the  herd  stood  in  the  open  and  far  from 
cover,  we  had  to  go  cautiously.  We  got  within  fifty  yards 
and  carefully  looked  them  over,  but  as  no  good  bull  was 
there  we  left  them  in  peace.  I  tried  a  photograph,  but 
heavy  clouds  had  gathered  over  the  mountain,  and  the  light 
was  poor. 

As  we  leisurely  strolled  campward,  the  black  storm 
clouds  burst  among  the  cliffs  and  canons  of  the  great  crater 
summit  of  Elgon.  For  a  few  moments,  no  longer,  no  mountain 
could  be  seen,  and  incessant  lightnings  alone  marked 
where  the  rocky  points  drew  down  the  electric  currents. 
Then  the  sun  beat  through  the  storm,  and  all  the  many 
square  miles  of  broken  forest  that  clothes,  and  softens  as  it 
clothes,  the  jagged  outlines  of  broken  scarp  and  crag,  were 
actually  lit  up  by  the  evening  glow.  One  great  mass  of 
snowy  cloud  still  held  together  in  the  very  crater  itself, 
and  on  it  the  full  strength  of  the  sun  seemed  to  fall,  till  it 
radiated  over  the  cliffs  and  dense  masses  of  woodland  round 
it,  a  soft  white  light  all  its  own. 

I  never  fancied  anything  so  strange  or  so  lovely.  The 
secret  places  of  the  great  mountain  that  were  quite  hidden 
before,  stood  forth  to  view,  as  this  lower  light  searched  them 
out.  Then  the  smoky  spirals  of  drifting  cloud  still  clinging 
to  the  tree  tops,  the  leavings  of  the  warm  storm,  rose  at  last 
in  silvery  columns,  slowly  freeing  themselves  from  the 
earthly  claims  that  had  bound  them,  and  you  could  hear 
the  augmented  roar  of  the  river  torrent,  as  it  came  down  the 
dark  canon  of  the  Turkwell. 

The  last  evening  light  fell  tenderly  over  the  yellow 
plain,  while  slowly  the  mighty  herd  moved  off  into  the 
darkening  east. 

Let  me  close  my  rambling  chapter  by  saying  that  I 


ELEPHANT  207 

should  not  greatly  care  to  kill  any  more  elephant.  They 
are  too  big,  too  old  and  wise,  to  be  classed  as  mere  game. 
As  I  stood  by  the  side  of  that  vast  fallen  bulk,  I  realized  I 
had  extinguished  a  life  perhaps  more  than  three  times  as 
old  as  my  own.  What  had  not  these  great  beasts  seen  and 
survived  ?  What  comings  and  goings  of  the  tribes  ?  What 
changes  among  the  petty  bands  of  men.  He  was  probably 
a  full-grown  elephant  when  Livingstone  first  resolutely 
set  his  face  toward  Africa's  unknown  interior.  I  felt 
small,  and  a  little  guilty. 


CHAPTER  IX 
NZOIA  PLATEAU  AND  ITS  TRIBES 

TT^XCEPT  on  our  own  plains  bordering  the  Rocky  Moun- 
•  l  tains,  I  never  breathed  air  that  seemed  to  me  more 
invigourating  than  the  breeze  blowing  over  this  green  and 
beautiful  land.  Some  day  it  may  prove  to  be  the  health 
resort  of  the  country.  There  are  a  few  papyrus  swamps,  but 
I  never  saw  a  mosquito.  Flies  there  are  none,  nor  fleas, 
nor  ticks  (the  pest  of  man  and  beast) ;  the  soil  is  evidently 
rich,  the  grass  rank,  except  where  the  vast  herds  of  game 
keep  it  down.  And  the  forests  on  its  borders  furnish  the 
finest  and  most  abundant  timber  in  East  Africa.  As  I 
said  before,  Boer  colonies  from  the  Transvaal,  have  put  in 
applications  for  the  whole  of  it.  And  the  value  they  place 
on  possible  holdings  there,  I  saw  illustrated  but  yesterday 
when  one  of  them  (a  few  are  here  already)  calmly  said,  he 
had  sold  his  concession  of  10,000  acres  to  a  newcomer  Boer 
for  £1,200,  and  this,  be  it  remembered,  was  before  he  had 
put  up  one  fence  post  or  turned  one  sod.  I  doubt  greatly 
whether  the  Boer's  proposed  transfer  of  a  farm  he  had  done 
absolutely  nothing  on,  and  which  had  cost  just  the  survey 
fees  (less  than  £40)  and  not  another  penny,  will  be  favour- 
ably considered  at  Nairobi  headquarters.  This  same  Boer 
loses  no  single  opportunity  of  openly  saying  he  hates  the 
government  under  whose  too  easy  rules  he  has  already 
acquired  these  10,000  acres  of  fine  land,  at  one  halfpenny 
an  acre  annual  rental;  and  yet  he  actually  proposes  to  him- 
self the  raising  of  a  sum,  which  to  him  is  a  fortune,  on  such 
terms  as  these. 

It  is  only  fair  to  the  rest  of  his  countrymen,  who  are  about 

208 


NZOIA  PLATEAU  AND  ITS  TRIBES        209 

to  establish  homesteads  here,  to  say,  that  they  have  been 
the  first  to  see,  and  avail  themselves  of,  the  advantages  of 
the  Nzoia  Plateau.  So  far  as  a  stranger  could  judge  of 
them,  by  talking  with  their  leaders,  they  were  appreciative 
of  the  country,  and  of  the  easy  conditions  offered  them  to 
acquire  homesteads  in  it.  The  Boer  certainly  has  a  good 
eye  for  country.  He  will  take  trouble  to  find  the  land  that 
suits  him,  and  having  found  it  he  sits  down  on  it,  and  makes 
a  home.  This  is  just  what  the  Englishman  out  here  does 
not  do,  he  crowds  where  some  of  his  fellow  countrymen  have 
already  settled,  and  even  then  nine  times  out  of  ten  only 
buys  that  he  may  sell  at  the  earliest  possible  moment. 
Now  the  Boer  may  move  on  in  this  land,  as  he  has  moved 
on  and  on  in  other  lands.  But  even  if  he  does,  he  yet  stays 
long  enough  to  outstay  the  Englishman.  And  I  must  say 
it  looks  at  present  as  if  he  was  likely  to  hold  and  control 
ultimately  much  that  is  best  in  the  Protectorate.  He  objects 
to  the  present  arrangement'  of  long  lease  for  the  land,  he 
prefers  actual  ownership,  but  since  that  is  denied  him  by 
the  law  as  it  now  stands,  he  takes  up  his  holding  on  the  best 
conditions  permitted  him,  confident  in  his  own  stubborn 
mind,  that  long  before  his  eighty  or  ninety  years  lease  is  out 
he  will  have  a  good  deal  to  say  as  to  the  terms  of  its  renewal. 
He  is  wise  in  his  day  and  generation  is  the  Boer,  he  knows 
that  the  man  who  stays  by  the  land,  will  in  the  end  settle  the 
terms  by  which  the  land  stays  by  him. 

Of  all  these  things  and  many  more  I  thought  as  I  saw 
the  sun  setting  beyond  western  Elgon.  Ah,  indeed,  whoever 
holds  it,  this  is  a  land  beautiful  as  it  is  rich,  and  so  far  as 
human  foreknowledge  can  go,  likely  to  furnish  homes  of 
peace  and  plenty  in  the  future. 

For  many  years  this  green  land  has  been  tenantless,  the 
chosen  haunt  of  bands  of  lions  and  herds  of  game.  But  it 
was  not  always  so.  If  the  dead  could  come  back  to  claim 
their  own,  if  ghosts  of  cruelly  injured  peoples  walked  and 


2io  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

could  haunt  the  scenes  of  their  wrongs,  this  would  indeed 
be  a  gruesome  and  uncanny  land  to  dwell  in.  Even  the 
unobservant  sportsmen  cannot  fail  to  notice  all  over  this 
country  innumerable  stone  circles  and  walls,  more  or  less 
solidly  put  together,  which  stand  in  groups,  some  big,  and 
some  little ;  many  thousands  of  such  dwellings,  or  stone  out- 
lines of  dwellings,  still  stud  the  veldt,  and  crowd  on  the  hilly 
slopes  of  the  plateau  and  the  country  nearby.  Who  raised 
them  ?  When  were  they  built,  these  habitations  so 
unlike  all  other  African  dwellings  ?  What  evil  fortune  has 
overwhelmed  those  who  once  lived  therein  ?  No  one  can 
answer  with  any  certitude  these  questions.  The  wandering 
Nandi,  the  N'dorobo  of  the  neighbouring  mountains,  mum- 
ble something  of  "the  spirits"  that  long  ago  were  the 
builders.  None  of  themselves  have  any  idea  of  a  stone  kraal. 

In  other  countries  tradition  of  some  sort  lives  for 
several  generations,  at  least,  and  the  name  of  the  tribe,  if 
little  more,  is  sure  to  survive  the  tribe  for  long.  Here  it  is 
not  so.  Names  among  these  people  mean  little.  The  name 
Lumbwa  for  instance,  now  used  by  that  tribe  living  near  the 
lake,  is  not  their  rightful  name.  So  lately  as  fifteen  years  ago 
they  called  themselves  Sikesi.  The  white  men  who  came 
first  to  this  country  on  their  way  to  Uganda  before  reaching 
them,  passed  through  Massai  tribes,  of  whom  they  asked 
naturally  the  name  of  the  people  they  should  next  meet. 
The  Massai  said  they  were  "Lumbwa,"  their  own  term  of 
contempt  for  them.  By  it  therefore  the  visitors  called  them. 
By  it  they  have  ever  since  been  called,  and  by  it  they  have 
ended  in  calling  themselves. 

The  very  name,  then,  of  the  unfortunate  people  whose 
kraals  dot  perhaps  the  richest  plateau  in  East  Africa  is 
uncertain.  Probably  they  were  called  Sarequa.  Were 
they  a  fighting  race,  who  held  their  rich  home  land  against 
a  league  of  tribes  that  coveted  their  herds  and  unequalled 
pasturage  ?  And  were  they,  only  at  last,  by  overwhelming 


NZOIA  PLATEAU  AND  ITS  TRIBES        211 

numbers  destroyed  ?  One  of  those  ill-fated  races,  to  be 
found  in  all  lands,  who,  like  the  Irish,  "went  out  to  battle 
and  always  fell  ? " 

Was  their  last  stand  made  on  one  of  these  high  hills,  still 
crowned  by  their  rude  buildings  ?  Or  did  some  withering 
plague,  such  as  still  walks  in  the  noon  day  of  Africa,  some 
deadly  pestilence  of  long  ago, lay  its  blight  on  a  whole  people  ? 
Or  were  they  a  timorous  and  unwarlike  race,  shrinking  from 
open  fight,  and  seeking  in  rude  intrenchments  a  means  of 
defence  against  neighbours  stronger  and  more  warlike 
than  they? 

Few  may  ever  question,  none  may  ever  know.  The 
mighty  forest  and  rich,  encroaching  veldt  will  soon  blot  out 
their  only  memorials,  these  strange  stone  circular  foundations 
of  their  homes.  They  are  gone,  and  but  one  more  is  added 
to  the  innumerable  and  forgotten  tragedies  of  this  sad  and 
beautiful  land. 

Nor  are  tragedies  here  things  of  the  long  past  alone.  Not 
three  years  ago,  a  scoundrelly  Goanesse  trader  conducted 
against  the  Turkana,  a  tribe,  not  yet  placed  under  English 
rule,  a  private  war  of  his  own.  It  began  with  a  well  organ- 
ized cattle  raid.  Then,  when  the  unfortunate  people  tried 
to  recover  their  own,  the  robbers  swept  them  down  with 
rifle  fire;  then  more  cattle  were  driven  in,  then  another 
useless  onslaught  by  the  ill-armed  Turkana  followed. 
After  several  months  of  such  wholesale  buccaneering,  the 
trader  was  actually  taken  by  the  authorities  into  Barengo 
boma,  and  the  Turkana  were  told  to  come  in  and  identify 
the  cattle  if  they  could.  It  was  hard  to  get  wild  men  like 
these,  who  had  lately  had  such  bitter  cause  to  distrust  the 
white  man,  to  come.  But  some  of  them  came.  The  mur- 
dered men  naturally  could  not.  Many  cattle  were  identified 
by  them,  and  these  the  trader  gave  up.  He  was  then  allowed 
to  go,  keeping  the  rest.  He  returned  to  more  settled  regions 
with  his  stolen  gains,  and  actually  succeeded  in  selling  a  part 


212  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

of  them.  One  thing  above  all  other  things  this  country 
wants  badly,  and  wants  now.  A  strong  impartial  govern- 
ment. That  is  just  what,  alas,  it  has  not  got.  A  policy 
of  " cover-up,"  and  " hush-up"  at  any  cost,  prevails.  If  an 
official  fails  in  his  office,  or  if  worse  than  that,  he  has  been 
guilty  of  more  than  one  failure,  too  often  the  course  pursued 
is  one  of  concealment.  "  Let  us  not  have  a  scandal  whatever 
we  do."  This  criticism  may  seem  harsh  and  uncalled  for, 
especially  coming  from  a  visitor  who  has  received,  as  I  have, 
on  all  hands,  nothing  but  kindness  and  courteous  considera- 
tion. But  I  have  fully  convinced  myself,  by  actual  personal 
investigation,  of  its  unfortunate  and  literal  truth.  The 
difficulties  facing  the  executive  in  British  East  Africa  are 
very  great.  Every  allowance  should  be  made  for  those  who 
are  set  to  do  a  task,  with  means  utterly  inadequate  to  the 
accomplishment  of  that  task.  But  however  inadequate 
those  means  may  be,  the  policy  of  hushing  up,  and  pretend- 
ing not  to  know  flagrant  wrongdoing  of  public  officials, 
must  be  ruinous  to  official  discipline  and  efficiency. 

This  raid  of  Mr. ,  known  all  over  the  land,  was  not 

punished  as  it  should  have  been.  It  is  true  that  there  are 
difficulties  in  procuring  evidence,  natives  would  have  to  be 
brought  from  a  long  distance,  expense  might  have  to  be  in 
incurred,  but  if  an  example  was  once  made  of  such  unscrupu- 
lous villainy,  it  would  strengthen  the  hands  of  every  single 
magistrate  in  these  far  scattered  posts,  and  help  greatly  to 
raise  the  prestige  of  the  native  police  (askari),  which  by  the 
way,  needs  raising  badly.  That  hundreds  of  innocent 
men  should  be  murdered  in  cold  blood,  for  attempting 
to  defend  their  poor  little  all  of  possessions,  that  this 
should  be  done  within  an  English  protectorate,  and  that 
the  man  doing  it  should  remain  not  only  unpunished, 
but  untried,  is  surely  not  according  to  what  is  best  in 
English  tradition. 

In  a  land  where  disorder  and  injustice  has  wrought  its 


NZOIA  PLATEAU  AND  ITS  TRIBES        213 

evil  will  for  countless  years,  British  rule  should  be  just,  wise 
and  strong.  Here,  it  would  be  but  unkind  flattery  to  describe 
it  as  being  anything  of  the  kind.  The  fault  is  not  with  the 
individual  civil  officers.  These  must  impress  any  fair  minded 
man  as  being  usually  most  hard  working  and  competent. 
But  there  is  no  sign  of  settled  policy  anywhere  in  the  Pro- 
tectorate. There  is  a  too  evident  lack  of  system,  of 
cooperation;  no  man  is  sure  of  being  firmly  supported  if 
he  does  his  job  well.  Men  are  aimlessly  shifted  from  post 
to  pillar.  From  work  they  have  but  just  begun  to  under- 
stand and  to  do,  to  other  work,  for  which  they  cannot,  in 
the  nature  of  the  case,  be  as  well  prepared  to  do.  Good 
material  is  wasted,  good  lives  and  much  money  thrown  away, 
and  everybody  is  grumbling. 

The  southern  portion  of  the  plateau  is  now  well  known. 
A  district  commissioner  has  taken  up  residence  there,  and 
stores  will  soon  spring,  up  like  mushrooms  round  the 
"rock."  Three  years  ago  it  was  a  no  man's  land,  where  all 
who  came  looked  for  enemies  and  sometimes  found  them. 
There  can  be  few  places,  even  in  Africa,  where  the  laws  of 
change  have  worked  so  rapidly. 

The  northern  portion  has  as  yet  scarcely  been  travelled 
or  hunted  at  all.  South  of  the  Nzoia,  since  the  Nandi  war  — 
that  is,  for  the  last  three  years  —  raiding  by  the  tribes  has 
generally  ceased.  And  the  small  but  continuous  blood  let- 
tings,  so  common  wherever  the  country  is  not  actually  policed 
have  stopped.  The  Nandi  whose  rich  lands  lie  to  the  west 
of  the  Plateau,  till  they  were  defeated  and  brought  to  reason, 
were  responsible  for  most  of  the  quarrelling. 

They  were  far  more  numerous  than  the  other  tribes  to 
east  or  north  of  them,  and  their  young  warriors  found  amuse- 
ment and  adventure  in  raids,  big  and  little  on  their  feebler 
neighbours.  The  Nandi  are  an  intelligent  and  interesting 
people.  Some  of  the  women  especially,  having  features 
that  strike  you  at  once  as  refined.  Like  the  Massai  they 


214  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

are  not  only  polygamous  but  polyandrous,  and  I  think  in 
great  part  this  moral  laxity  is  fostered  by  tribal  custom. 

For  many  generations,  how  many  no  one  can  tell,  for 
African  tradition  reaches  but  a  little  way  back,  the  Massai 
tribe  set  the  fashion  (to  put  it  briefly)  in  war  and  peace,  for 
East  African  native  life. 

The  power  of  this  strange  and  strong  people  has  been 
broken.  Wars  among  themselves,  carried  on  with  ruthless 
determination,  wars,  in  which  for  many  days  continuously, 
thousands  of  warriors  fought  from  morning  to  night  an 
endless  series  of  desperate  duels,  man  to  man,  while,  camped 
closely  by,  their  women  looked  on,  have  decimated  them. 

Then  came  the  rinderpest,  and  carried  away  all  their 
cattle.  On  these  they  were  wholly  dependent,  and  the 
Massai  perished  in  thousands.  If  cruel  fortune  has  in  late 
years  dogged  their  path,  none  can  say  it  was  undeserved. 
They  had  trampled  bloody  pathways  all  over  East  Africa. 
The  invaders  had  penetrated  even  the  Mombassa  streets; 
and  from  time  out  of  mind  they  had  boldly  lived  up  to  their 
creed,  one  article  of  which  was,  that  God  had  given  to  the 
original  father  of  the  Massai  all  the  cattle  on  the  earth,  and 
no  other  tribe  could  lawfully  hold  a  goat,  sheep,  or  cow.* 

The  Massai  were  enabled  to  win  their  victories  and  main- 
tain their  power,  because  they  alone  were  organized  for  war. 
This  war  organization  enabled  them  to  mass  their  soldiers 
at  any  given  point  more  quickly  than  could  other  tribes. 

Every  male  Massai  between  the  ages  of  twenty  and  thirty 
was  a  warrior  (moran).  He  lived  in  separate  villages 
(munyatas)  with  his  fellow  soldiers.  And  these  soldier 
villages  were  placed  in  such  strategic  positions  as  the  chiefs 
thought  would  best  assure  the  safety  of  the  other  villages, 
where  lived  the  old  and  married  men,  and  round  which  were 
pastured  the  innumerable  and  splendid  herds,  which  the 

*  See  "Massai  Language  and  Folklore,"  p.  270,  Hollis.  Oxford,  Clarendon  Press,  A  most 
interesting  book.  Notice  in  Mr.  Hollis's  book  the  extraordinary  similarity  between  many  of  the 
Massai  folklore  stories  and  the  stories  of  Uncle  Remus  and  Br'er  Rabbit. 


NZOIA  PLATEAU  AND  ITS  TRIBES        215 

Massai  owned  and  by  which  they  all  lived.  (They  live  only 
on  milk  and  blood.) 

North  of  the  Nandi  country  the  wide  spreading  slopes 
of  Mt.  Elgon  rise.  These  are  seamed  and  broken  in  an 
extraordinary  way,  owing  to  the  tremendous  activity 
of  the  great  volcano  years  ago. 

When  first  seen  the  fine  purple  masses  of  the  mountains, 
seem  to  rise  gradually  and  smoothly  right  up  to  the  rocky 
cliffs  that  form  the  upper  lips  of  the  crater.  But  from  a 
nearer  point  (and  to  gain  it  requires  some  hard  and  patient 
marching,  fighting  through  swamps  and  crossing  and 
re-crossing  soft  banked  streams)  the  real  nature  of  an  African 
volcano  is  revealed.  The  mountain  (14,200  feet)  is  split  and 
torn.  Groups  of  mighty  kopjes  are  tossed  up  here  and 
there,  while  there  is  at  least  one  canon  cutting  the  broad 
summit  almost  in  half,  splitting  it  up,  a  vast  gash  into  its 
very  roots. 

Through  this  fine  gorge,  rushes  down  the  clear  volume 
of  the  Turquell  River.  I  stood  on  its  banks  after  a  hard 
day's  marching  and  my  men  waded  across  into  Uganda. 
The  delicious  water  was  cool,  and  far  above  us  we  could  see 
where  now  and  again  it  forced  its  way  white  and  foaming 
down  the  rocky  defiles  of  its  mountain  home.  On  the 
southeastern  slopes  of  Elgon  a  little  known  tribe,  called  the 
Katosh,  dwell.  The  people  used  in  the  riotous  days  gone  by, 
to  retreat  with  their  cattle  into  a  range  of  mountain  caves 
of  great  extent.  They  barricaded  the  entrances  and 
generally  seemed  to  have  made  their  defence  good.  These 
caves,  which  are  of  great  extent,  were  hastily  visited  by 
Joseph  Thompson  when  he  made  his  famous  journey  from 
Mombassa  through  Massai  land,  to  the  Lake,  in  1883. 
He,  in  the  most  positive  way,  pronounced  them  to  be  artificial, 
the  work  of  a  remote  age.  Since  then  several  competent 
men  have  explored  them  (which  Thompson  had  no  time 
to  do)  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they  are  natural. 


216  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

I  refer  to  the  Katosh,  because,  though  I  had  no  time  to  visit 
them,  I  came  very  near  to  being  spectator  of  a  pretty  little 
native  cattle  raising  affair  between  them  and  a  large  Elgao 
war  party. 

As  H.  and  I  made  our  way  northward  toward  Turquell, 
looking  for  elephant,  we  crossed  the  quite  fresh  trail  of  a 
large  war  party.  There  was  no  mistaking  that  narrow 
beaten  path  which  the  foot  of  men  moving  in  a  long  single 
line  leaves  on  the  veldt.  Who  were  they  ?  Where  were 
they  going  ?  Had  I  come  across  such  a  trail  four  months 
before,  it  would  have  meant  nothing  to  me.  I  might  hunt 
the  country  over  from  Elgon  to  Cherangang,  and  Sergoit  to 
the  Turquell,  and  know  really  nothing  at  all  about  the 
people  that  thickly  inhabited  all  the  mountain  lands  that, 
from  west,  north,  and  east,  looked  down  upon  it.  Now  I 
had  at  last  an  introduction  to  them  all.  The  land  that  had 
been  so  silent  before,  now  had  a  voice.  And  evening  after 
evening  as  we  sat  by  the  fragrant  thornwood  fire,  I  heard  in 
part  at  least,  something  of  its  story. 

My  teachers  were  the  Cherangang  N'dorobo,  the  most 
interesting  natives  I  met  during  my  year's  sojourn  in  the 
country,  and  men,  too,  who  had  never  camped  and  hunted 
with  any  white  man  till  my  companion  Mr.  A.  C.  Hoey,  with 
wonderful  patience  and  tact,  had  succeeded  in  winning  their 
complete  confidence.  Henceforth  for  me,  if  the  days  were 
interesting,  the  evenings  round  the  camp  fire  were  more 
interesting  still,  as  I  hear  the  stories  of  their  own  little  tribe, 
or  traditions  somewhat  loosely  held  among  them  of  other 
tribes  far  larger  and  more  powerful,  that  long  since  had  been 
broken  up  or  swept  away. 

There  are,  be  it  remembered,  N'dorobo  and  N'dorobo. 
Our  friends  and  guides  of  to-day  are,  in  the  language  of  the 
country,  Pukka  N'dorobo,  a  tribe  guarding  jealously  its 
own  language  and  customs  and  territory,  living  its  own  dis- 
tinctive life.  There  are  Nandi,  Kikuyu,  and  Massai 


NZOIA  PLATEAU  AND  ITS  TRIBES        217 

N'dorobo.  I  daresay  others  too,  but  these  are  only  deserters, 
restless  wandering  fellows,  or  criminals  driven  forth  from 
their  own  people,  or  leaving  them  voluntarily  in  order  to  live 
.and  hunt  on  the  veldt.  Such  wanderers  are  very  common 
in  the  little  known  parts  of  the  Protectorate.  Sometimes 
they  find  their  way  back  whence  they  came;  in  a  few  cases 
they  are  adopted  into  the  tribes  they  visit.  These  were  the 
wild  men  we  met  when  we  first  hunted  the  country  in  May, 
June,  and  July.  They  could  be  of  little  aid  to  us.  They 
were  Nandi  turned  N'dorobo,  poor  hunters,  knowing  little 
of  game  or  its  habits,  living  chiefly  on  honey  (it  was  then  the 
honey  season)  or  on  such  meat  as  they  could  get  by  hanging 
on  the  skirts  of  sefaris,  and  on  the  leavings  of  the  lion. 

Our  present  friends  are  members  of  the  Upper  Cherang- 
ang, taking  their  name  from  the  mountain  range  to  the 
•east  of  the  Nzoia  plateau.  In  its  highest  forests  they  have 
held  their  own  for  ages.  The  Lower  Cherangang,  a  quite 
separate  community,  hold  the  heavily  forested  lower  skirts 
of  the  range.  Neither  of  these  small  mountain  communities 
have  ever  come  in  touch  with  the  white  man,  till  H.  came 
among  them  and  won  their  confidence.  The  Lower  Cher- 
angang even  he  has  scarcely  met,  they  still  hold  aloof.  If 
you  approach  one  of  their  well  hidden  villages  you  find  no 
one  there,  except  perhaps  some  crippled  aged  folk,  who 
cannot  escape  into  the  woods. 

I  was  most  anxious  to  visit  this  tribe,  but  my  friends  of 
the  Upper  Cherangang  dissuaded  me.  To  go  unannounced 
they  said,  "might  be  dangerous."  Even  they  could  not  be 
sure  of  safely  avoiding  the  numerous  staked  game  pits  which 
filled  the  lower  regions  of  the  forest,  besides,  some  of  the 
younger  men  might  let  off  an  arrow  or  two  in  panic  — 
*' dangerous  or  not  we  should  find  no  one."  In  short  they 
would  not  guide  us  there. 

These  small  independent  communities  came  evidently 
of  good  stock.  They  could  not  possibly  be  ranked  as  pigmy, 


2i8  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

though  they  are  somewhat  undersized,  and  considering  the 
uncertainty  of  their  food  supply,  this  is  perhaps  to  be 
expected.  The  Massai  legends  have  it  (says  Hollis)  that 
"in  the  beginning,  when  God  came  to  the  world,  he  found 
three  things  in  it,  an  N'dorobo,  an  elephant,  and  a  snake/* 

Like  other  little  mountain  tribes,  the  value  they  place 
on  their  independence  and  freedom  is  marvellous.  Here 
in  remote  unexplored  Africa,  the  wide  world's  story  is  told 
over  again.  Slaughtered,  harried,  reduced  to  starvation, 
they  have  been  times  without  number:  but  never  conquered, 
dispersed,  or  absorbed.  Their  mountain  freedom  has  often 
cost  them  dear.  But  the  heavier  the  price  the  more  they 
value  it.  They  cultivate  a  little  "whimby"  (a  small,  very 
hard,  round  seed,  something  like  canary  seed  and  very 
nutritious;  all  East  African  natives  are  partial  to  it.  It 
fetches  a  higher  price  than  maize,  and  is  in  great  demand 
for  beer).  They  ferment  the  meal  and  add  honey.  The 
drink  is  highly  intoxicating  and  with  the  aid  of  the  honey 
bird  they  steadily  pursue  the  bees.  From  time  to  time  they 
visit  the  plateau  on  hunting  expeditions,  usually  leaving  wives 
and  children  in  the  mountains.  During  these  expeditions, 
they  often,  in  times  past,  suffered  from  the  Nandi,  Katosch, 
and  more  especially  the  Karamojo,  a  more  distant  tribe, 
but  one  that  sent  its  war  parties  very  far  afield. 

When  grass  is  long,  they  have  no  difficulty  in  procuring 
much  kongoni,  and  zebra  meat.  They  can  then  stalk  to 
within  thirty  or  forty  yards  of  the  game,  and,  at  that  distance, 
seem  always  to  send  a  heavily  poisoned  arrow  home.  These 
arrows  of  theirs  are  terribly  effective  weapons ;  they  are  quite 
beautifully  made,  smooth  on  the  shaft,  feathered  carefully 
with  vulture  wing  feathers,  a  twist  being  given  sometimes 
to  the  feathers  (something  I  have  never  seen  in  any  arrow 
feathering  before),  the  result  being  to  give  the  arrow  a  spin- 
ning flight,  like  that  of  a  rifle  bullet.  The  arrow  heads  are 
made  from  iron  wire  they  have  traded  (in  years  gone  by  they 


NZOIA  PLATEAU  AND  ITS  TRIBES        219 

were  in  touch  with  tribes  that  smelted  their  own  iron)  and 
which,  by  tempering,  they  render  into  a  good,  mild  steel, 
very  suitable  for  their  purpose.  Some  arrow  heads, 
generally  one  in  a  quiverful,  are  sharpened  to  a  long  plain 
keen  edge,  like  a  prolonged  bay  leaf.  These  they  use  as 
a  sort  of  pocket  knife,  cutting  the  meat  from  finer  skins  with 
them,  cutting  out  thorns  from  their  feet,  etc.  They  also 
use  them  against  small  game,  easily  killed,  when  poison  is 
not  necessary. 

Others  are  even  more  carefully  made,  the  points  long  and 
cruelly  barbed.  These  last  they  use  for  hunting  large  game, 
when  there  is  small  chance  of  the  shot  being  missed  and  the 
arrow  lost  in  the  long  grass.  The  shaft  is  of  fine  split  bam- 
boo. Into  this  shaft  fits  exactly  an  ironwood  head,  some  six 
inches  long,  and  on  this  again,  the  barbed  point  is  fastened. 
The  steel  head  of  the  arrow,  and  the  iron  wood  top  piece, 
for  two  inches  or  more,  are  smeared  with  the  much  dreaded 
poison.  The  kongoni,  stung  by  the  arrow,  rushes  off,  and 
the  feathered  shaft  drops,  leaving  the  iron  wood  head  and 
barb  of  the  weapon  in  the  wound.  If  the  poison  is  fresh, 
and  a  shoulder  or  a  neck  shot  has  been  made,  the  N'dorobo 
say  positively  that  no  beast  will  run  a  hundred  yards.  I  am 
inclined  however  to  think  that  they  exaggerate  somewhat  the 
action  of  this  poison.  That  it  is  very  deadly  there  is  no 
doubt.  Newman  who  lived  among  the  Kenia  N'dorobo 
satisfied  himself  of  that.  In  a  man's  case  its  deadly  action 
was  almost  instantaneous.  Quite  lately  there  happened 
hereabouts  a  small  fight  between  ten  Massai  (young  bloods) 
and  some  Kamasea,  who  used  the  same  poison  on  their 
arrows.  The  Massai  were  cattle  stealing,  and  had  the 
temerity  to  attack  a  small  village.  The  Kamasea  saw 
them  coming,  and,  lying  in  the  grass,  let  them  come.  Eight 
out  of  the  ten  raiders  fell  almost  at  once.  They  had  only 
time  to  cut  up  their  shields  and  break  their  spears  (no 
enemy  at  least  should  ever  wield  these)  and  die  beside  the 


220  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

broken  weapons.  Gallant  fellows  anyway!  The  broken 
war  gear  was  taken  by  the  Kamasea  to  the  nearest  civil  officer. 
The  bows  are  very  strong  and  well  strung,  and,  poor  as 
these  Pukka  N'dorobo  are  they  will  seldom  part  with  their 
really  good  bows  and  arrows;  the  old  and  inferior  weapons 
are  not  hard  to  buy.  Each  poisoned  arrow  is  very  neatly 
wrapped  with  skin  tape,  and  kept  so  covered  till  needed. 
The  arrows  they  use  on  their  enemies  are  not  tipped  with 
steel,  but  have  long  iron  wood  unbarbed  points.  They 
are  heavily  poisoned,  and  are  not  nearly  as  carefully  made, 
nor  could  they  pierce  nearly  so  far,  as  the  heavier  hunting 
arrow.  I  asked  them  why  they  did  this.  The  reply  was, 
they  wanted  many  arrows  to  shoot  at  their  enemies,  and  these 
were  easily  made,  and  less  costly.  There  was  no  need  in 
a  man's  case  for  the  heavy  piercing  heads.  A  prick  was 
enough.  I  think  I  remember  reading  long  ago  (if  I  am 
mistaken  I  crave  forgiveness  for  I  am  far  from  books  of 
reference)  that  the  Malay  tribes  who  use  the  blow  pipe  and 
dip  its  tiny  darts  in  deadly  poison  have  strange  customs 
which  they  jealously  observe,  when  that  poison  has  to  be 
prepared.)  These  people  most  scrupulously  continue  to 
obey  the  customs  their  forefathers  have  handed  down  to 
them.  A  hunter  must  not  make  any  poison,  while  with 
his  family.  For  two  days  he  must  not  eat  meat  or  touch 
blood,  and  he  must  leave  his  hut  and  live  alone  in  the  forest. 
If  these  rules  are  neglected,  the  poison  will  have  no  power 
to  kill.  All  the  neighbour  tribes  to  these  Cherangang  use 
the  poison:  Kamasea  to  the  east,  Maraquette  to  the  north, 
and  Elgao  to  the  south.  But  the  wild  men  say  the  poison 
these  tribes  use  is  not  so  strong,  and,  even  when  they  trade 
it  from  themselves,  it  is  apt  to  be  old  and  so  to  lose  much  of 
its  power.  Certainly  the  Pukka  N'dorobo's  instruments 
and  archery  are  markedly  superior.  The  arrows  and  bows 
made  by  the  Nandi  or  the  Massai  are  weak  and  inferior 
when  compared  with  them.  I  am  convinced  that  our 


NZOIA   PLATEAU  AND   ITS  TRIBES       221 

guides'  contention  is  true,  and  that  in  the  long  grass  and 
cover,  the  spear  and  shield  armed  warriors  of  the  Karamojo, 
Elgao,  or  Nandi,  are  no  match  for  them. 

Where  these  people  came  from  they  have  no  idea.  They 
say  they  were  here  before  the  Massai,  before  the  Sarequa, 
and  Massai  tradition  asserts  as  much.  But  wherever  they 
came  from,  even  to  a  casual  observer  it  is  evident  that  they 
are  a  highly  developed  race.  Often  the  hair  alone  is 
negroid  in  type,  the  lips  are  thin,  the  nose  fine,  sometimes 
almost  aquiline,  the  forehead  well  modelled.  I  said 
some  way  back  that  we  came  on  the  trail  of  an  Elgoa 
war  party,  and  that  these  Cherangang  guides  of  ours 
seemed  instinctively  to  know  whence  it  came,  and  on  what 
errand  it  was  bound.  Their  guess  we  proved  afterward 
to  be  accurate  in  every  particular.  It  seems  the  Elgoa  had 
been  obliged  to  pay  their  hut  tax  (but  lately  imposed  on  this 
tribe)  in  goats.  Said  they,  "The  white  man  has  taken  many 
of  our  goats,  and  says  he  will  take  more ;  let  us  go  and  take 
some  of  the  Katosche's  goats  to  make  up."  One  has  heard 
of  larger  and  more  civilized  peoples  going  to  war  on  pretty 
much  the  same  ground.  One  of  our  best  hunters,  a  half- 
breed,  Massai  Nandi,  who  has  done  a  lot  of  "scrapping" 
in  his  day,  was  heard  to  remark,  under  his  breath,  that  if 
"Bwana  Hoey  had  not  engaged  him  just  then  he'd  dearly 
have  liked  to  join  the  crowd."  They  are  born  "scrappers," 
these  people,  one  and  all.  They  don't  make  the  fuss  and 
boastful  show,  that  our  own  red  men,  in  the  days  of  their 
power  and  glory,  so  loved  to  indulge  in.  They  go  much 
more  quietly  about  the  trade  of  stealing  and  murder,  and 
indeed  are  far  braver  men.  Their  contempt  for  life,  all  life 
including  their  own,  is  complete.  Death  seems  to  mean 
very  little  to  them.  They  bury  one  of  their  own  dead,  if 
you  insist  on  it.  If  you  do  not,  they  leave  the  body  in  the 
nearest  clump  of  bushes,  and  no  shadow  of  death  seems  to 
trouble,  even  for  an  hour,  the  living. 


222  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

No  East  African  native  seems  to  have  the  slightest  idea 
of  a  future  life,  not  even  those  who  profess  Mohammedanism. 
Their  Mohammedanism  is  the  shallowest  of  superficial 
things.  It  offers  them  an  alliance  with  a  "caste,"  which 
they  have  come  to  think  of  as  a  higher  one  than  their  own, 
and  as  such  they  accept  it  and  rather  look  down  on  the 
tribes  that  remain  heathen.  But  of  the  doctrines  of  Moham- 
med they  know  nothing  whatever.  They  have  never  seen 
a  Koran  and  they  never  say  their  prayers. 

Before  I  leave  the,  to  me,  fascinating  subject  of  the  Cher- 
angang,  I  must  mention  one  peculiarity  of  theirs  and  of  the 
Elgoa.  It  is  their  lack  of  all  boastfulness  or  exaggeration, 
and  their  accuracy  of  statement.  They  are  careful  observers, 
these  wild  men,  of  the  animal  life  around  them,  and  many 
were  the  stones  told  by  our  nightly  fire. 

One  of  these  supplements  in  a  rather  singular  way  that 
remarkable  incident  Mr.  Fleischman  saw  on  the  Tana 
River,  an  account  of  which  is  published  in  Mr.  Selous's  last 
book,  where  Mr.  F.'s  photographs  are  reproduced.  In  that 
case  a  crocodile  pulled  a  rhino  under  and  ultimately 
devoured  him. 

The  old  chief  of  the  Cherangang  knew  from  his  boyhood 
the  Nzoia  river.  He  had  himself  killed  forty  elephants  in  its 
neighbourhood.  Once,  he  said,  when  he  was  watching  at 
one  of  the  fords  (the  river  there  was  running  rather  deep 
and  the  banks  were  steep  and  slippery)  a  large  herd  of  ele- 
phants came  to  the  crossing.  There  were  several  small  toto 
elephants  with  the  herd,  and  one  of  these  went  under  the 
surface.  The  old  man  said  he  saw  a  big  bull  carefully  put 
his  tusks  under  it  and  so  lifted  it  slowly  and  carefully  to  the 
bank  and  up  the  bank.  He  was  asked  if  he  ever  saw  the 
bulls  carry  the  totos  on  their  tusks,  as  some  native  legends 
say  they  do  during  long  marches.  He  at  once  said  he  had 
never  seen  it,  nor  did  he  believe  the  bulls  ever  did  this.  Then 
he  went  on  to  tell  how  on  the  same  river  he  saw  a  toto 


NZOIA  PLATEAU  AND  ITS  TRIBES       223 

attacked  in  midstream  by  a  crocodile,  when  the  mother 
quickly  seized  the  loathly  brute  with  her  trunk  and  fairly 
hurled  it  through  the  air,  far  up  on  the  bank.  What  a 
scene  that  would  have  been!  One  evening  near  the  sources 
of  the  Turquell  river,  excitement  was  caused  in  our  party 
by  the  arrival  of  a  dozen  slim,  tall,  well  formed  Karamojo 
warriors.  They  had  heard  our  shots,  they  said,  and  as  they 
were  out  after  elephants  themselves,  and  had  failed  to  kill, 
they  came  to  us  and  hoped  we  would  give  them  some  meat. 
One  spoke  good  Swahili  and  we  were  all  soon  on  a  friendly 
footing.  At  first  our  N'dorobo  and  Massai  were  evidently 
distrustful  of  the  strangers:  they  drew  H.  aside  and  said, 
"they  were  lying,  that  they  were  not  hunting,  but  were  a 
war  party  trying  to  pick  up  a  few  Nandi  N'dorobo,  or  some 
of  their  own  people."  Afterward  we  found  that  our 
men's  surmise  was  quite  correct,  and  that  the  small  parties 
of  trackers  we  had  sent  out  to  look  for  elephant  had  had  a 
very  narrow  escape.  Had  they  fallen  across  our  new 
acquaintances  they  would  have  been  promptly  speared. 
H.  indeed  had  advised  his  friends  to  carry,  when  they  went 
out,  one  of  our  guns.  This  would  have  at  once  marked 
them  as  belonging  to  a  white  man's  sefari,  and  would  have 
insured  their  safety.  They  laughed  at  the  idea  of  any 
Karamojo  raiding  so  far  from  home.  The  recklessness  of 
the  East  African  is  extraordinary  and  on  this  occasion  came 
near  costing  them  dear.  The  Karamojo  are  a  powerful 
tribe  living  chiefly  on  their  herds,  living  in  complete  igno- 
rance and  independence  of  English  rule.  Their  bitter 
enemies  are  the  Turkana  whose  country  lies  on  the  eastern 
side  of  the  Suk  mountains  and  between  these  tribes  the  Suk, 
friendly  to  both,  act  as  peacemakers;  Suk  Turkana  in  part 
pay  hut  tax.  We  travelled  for  several  days,  going  hard,  in 
order  to  visit  the  Karamojo  village.  Our  friends  evidently 
wanted  us  to  come  and,  owing  to  their  hospitality  no  doubt, 
declared  the  distance  to  be  less  than  it  was,  and  the  road 


224  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

easier.  But  time  was  precious,  potio  short,  and  little  or  no 
game  in  the  country.  So  regretfully  we  had  to  turn  back. 
One  could  not  but  admire  these  tall  young  fellows,  so  much 
alike  in  figure  that  they  might  all  have  been  the  sons  of  one 
mother.  They  were  as  different  as  could  be  from  our 
sturdier  Wanyamwazi  porters,  very  slimly  made  in  the  hips, 
with  beautifully  formed  legs,  good  travellers,  but  poorly 
built  for  field  work  or  burden  bearing.  Their  narrow  shields 
tipped  with  ostrich  feathers  were  made  of  elephant  or 
giraffe  hide  and  were  very  tough.  Their  long,  well-balanced 
and  very  narrow-headed  spears  were  highly  prized  by  them. 
I  had  difficulty  in  securing  two.  They  carried  on  the  left 
hand  an  iron  hook,  about  two  and  a  half  inches  across, 
and  fixed  to  the  third  finger  by  a  ring.  They  used  this 
charming  instrument,  they  told  us,  for  gouging  out  their 
enemies'  eyes.  They  had  neither  bows  nor  swords  and  did 
not  know  how  to  make  poison.  They  are  great  game  trap- 
pers, using  snares,  not  pits,  and  judging  by  the  rarity  of  all 
game  in  this  region,  they  have  trapped  only  too  successfully. 
They  say  they  can  trap  the  elephant,  using  rope  nooses 
which  are  fastened  to  a  fallen  tree  as  a  clog.  Our  old 
N'dorobo  confirmed  this  extraordinary  piece  of  information 
by  saying  he  had  once  found  such  an  elephant's  snare,  all 
torn  to  pieces  by  an  elephant  which  had  been  noosed  and 
broken  loose.  I  found  a  piece  of  an  old  kongoni  snare 
which,  for  patient  construction  and  clever  adaptability, 
shows  rare  ingenuity.  It  must  have  been  set  in  some  such 
way  as  this:  A  rawhide  noose  has  evidently  been  laid  over 
some  slight  hollow  on  a  kongoni  run  or  under  one  of  the 
shade  trees  the  animals  frequent  at  midday.  If  the  kongoni 
stepped  into  the  noose  and  sank  his  leg  through  it  into  the 
dip  beneath,  he  might  easily  kick  out  of  the  noose.  So  this 
circlet  of  thorns  has  been  very  ingeniously  made  and  is 
placed  beneath  the  slip-knot  of  the  snare.  This  clings  to  the 
animal's  leg,  and  holds  the  slip-knot  in  place,  the  thorny 


NZOIA   PLATEAU  AND   ITS   TRIBES       225 

collar  makes  him  jump,  and  holds  in  its  place  the  noose  that 
is  drawn  taut  by  his  jumping.  To  the  other  end  of  the  raw- 
hide is  fastened  a  heavy  wooden  clog  which  lies  hidden  in  the 
grass  or  is  covered  by  sand.  We  found  these  traps  still  set, 
and  I  must  say  they  seemed  to  me  the  cleverest  traps  I  ever 
saw.  These  Karamojo  have  never,  so  far  as  I  could  learn 
from  them,  had  the  visit  of  a  white  man.  They  knew  noth- 
ing about  missionaries  and  they  said  with  justifiable  pride, 
that  diseases  the  curse  of  those  tribes  that  had  come  in  con- 
tact with  the  white  man  and  the  Hindi  were  unknown. 
The  women  wear  skin  aprons  and  short  cloaks.  The  men 
are  quite  naked.  Their  skins  are  very  glossy  and  smooth 
and  black.  They  wear  the  hair  tightly  drawn  back  and 
worked  into  a  chignon  which  affords  a  very  real  protection 
to  the  head.  The  clay  they  use  in  working  up  this  elaborate 
head  dress  seems  to  be  impervious  to  heavy  rain.  After 
a  moderate  shower  you  see  the  Massai  head  dressing  coming 
sadly  to  grief,  and  all  their  faces  and  shoulders  dabbled  and 
streaked  with  red  runnels  of  water.  While  the  Karamojo's 
headgear  is  no  more  affected  by  a  downpour  than  a  duck's 
back.  At  the  nape  of  the  neck  they  leave  a  little  opening 
into  the  chignon,  which  has  a  hollow  somewhere  within  it, 
and  in  this  they  carry  a  snuff  box  or  any  small  articles  on 
which  they  place  value. 

The  evening  of  the  day  on  which  I  shot  my  elephants,  and 
on  which  the  Karamojo  had  come  in,  there  were  tremendous 
rejoicings  in  camp.  Some  of  my  Wanyamwazi  had  been 
with  me  since  May;  now  it  was  October  and  they  determined 
to  honour  the  occasion  by  getting  up  a  dance,  one  of  their 
regular  dances,  the  dance  of  the  elephant.  I  noticed  after 
dinner,  as  I  sat  by  the  fire,  that  the  camp  seemed  unusually 
still  and  that  the  men  were  absent  from  their  cooking  fire. 
Suddenly  round  the  back  of  my  tent  came  a  long  rank  of  men 
dancing  with  measured  prancing  step,  a  green  twig  on  each 
man's  head  and  another  in  each  hand.  With  admirable 


226  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

precision  the  line  wheeled  on  its  leader  and  swept  round 
and  round  me  and  the  fire  as  the  men  chanted  their  weird 
minor  song.  A  dance  seems  to  electrify  the  East  African. 
You  could  see  the  eyes  of  the  Karamojo  and  the  N'dorobo 
flashing,  their  hands  and  bodies  trembling,  as  the  swaying 
line  passed  them.  Presently  they  were  off  in  a  dance  of 
their  own  and,  not  to  be  outdone,  joined  the  Massai  and 
N'dorobo;  and  the  high  flame,  as  it  leaped  from  the  heaped- 
on  logs,  shone  on  a  wild  circle  of  naked  leaping  figures.  In 
a  few  moments  the  whole  mass  seemed  somehow  to  find 
and  recognize  its  leader,  a  slim  young  Massai,  who  soon  led 
and  controlled  the  whole;  still  directing  them  he  extem- 
porized a  song  and  every  rude  voice  took  up  its  chorus: 

The  Bwana  came  to  hunt  lions,  he  has  got  lions. 

The  Bwana  came  to  hunt  elephants,  he  has  got  elephants. 

Our  fathers  came  here  to  kill  each  other  and  steal  cows. 

But  we  come  no  more  in  war  but  in  peace, 

To  help  the  Bwana  to  kill  lions  and  elephants. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  they  grew  tired  and  the  singing 
and  dancing  gradually  died  down. 

I  can  fancy  no  more  interesting  sefari  than  one  pushed 
along  the  eastern  skirts  of  Elgon,  a  visit  then  made  to  the 
Katosch,  then  following  the  mountain's  eastern  base,  push 
north  to  the  Turquell  river  and  down  its  bank  to  the  great 
plain  through  which  it  flows.  Here  we  could  see  with  our 
glasses  surely  one  of  the  strangest  formations  in  Africa. 
Scores  of  actual  pyramids  (they  seem),  volcano  cones  they 
were  of  course,  dotted  it  for  many  miles.  One  was  as  regular 
and  of  almost  the  height  of  the  great  Pyramid.  To  the 
north  of  the  plains  rise  the  Suk  mountains.  Keep  along  the 
southern  base  of  these  and,  travelling  east,  penetrate  the 
extreme  northern  end  of  the  Elgon  escarpment  and,  by  its 
ridges  and  forest  country,  work  southward  to  the  Cherang- 
ang.  In  all  this  new  and  interesting  region  there  are  few 


NZOIA   PLATEAU  AND   ITS   TRIBES       227 

mosquitoes  and  very  little  fever.  Horses  and  mules  do 
well,  as  there  is  no  tsetse,  but  one  thing  must  be  had  in 
mind  in  planning  such  exploration.  During  April,  May, 
and  June  there  is  a  belt  of  country  north  of  the  Nzoia 
where  sefari  is  impossible,  owing  to  the  numbers  of  the 
gadfly.  Mules  and  donkeys  cannot  live,  but  actually  bleed 
to  death,  and  porters  cannot  march.  These  terrible  pests, 
strangely  enough,  do  not  cross  to  the  southern  bank  of  the 
river  in  any  considerable  number,  and  south  of  the  river 
these  months  and  March  are  the  very  best  hunting  months 
in  all  the  year.  The  grass  is  then  short,  the  country  a 
beautiful  fresh  green.  Lions  can  be  ridden  round  the  rock 
and  to  the  southwest  of  it,  and  can  be  hunted  in  the  bushy 
lands  bordering  the  river  where  they  are  very  numerous; 
but  once  the  grass  makes  head  it  is  dangerous  work  following 
them  there. 

I  know  more  about  such  hunting  now  than  I  did  when 
I  first  followed  them  on  foot  and  alone,  six  months  ago. 
And  to  follow  up  bands  of  lions  when  more  than  one  of 
their  number  has  been  wounded  in  long  grass  is  taking  a 
risk,  a  very  grave  risk. 

If  this  is  done  two  guns  should  work  together.  Only  a  few 
months  ago  H.  and  a  sportsman  with  him  missed  an  accident 
by  a  hair's  breadth.  The  grass  was  still  short,  not  up  to 
the  knee.  They  had  wounded  a  lioness  badly  and  then, 
thinking  they  couldn't  fail  to  see  her  in  time  to  avoid  all 
danger,  walked  side  by  side  slowly  through  the  little  patch 
of  sparse  cover  she  had  slunk  into.  They  heard  her  growl 
but  could  not  locate  the  sound.  Do  what  they  would, 
they  could  see  nothing.  There  are  little  ant  heaps  all 
scattered  through  the  grass  hereabouts,  the  size  and  colour 
of  a  big  brown  overbaked  loaf.  H.'s  man  shot  quickly 
twice,  and  H.  saw  the  dust  puff  up  from  an  ant  hill  a  few 
feet  away.  Then  there  was  a  yellow  rush,  and  from  some- 
where, almost  under  their  feet,  the  lioness  was  on  them, 


228  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

mercifully  to  be  met  by  an  almost  chance  shot  from  H.'s 
heavy  .450  which  paralyzed  her.  No  man  cares  to  look 
back  on  a  shave  like  that. 

Quite  near  the  rock  another  affair  came  off  this  spring, 
which,  but  for  the  cool  courage  of  a  native  askari,  would 
have  ended  fatally.  Two  men,  Englishmen,  who  should 
never  have  gone  after  dangerous  game,  shot  at  a  lion  and 
missed  it.  It  seems  there  was  a  lioness  with  the  lion,  which 
neither  of  them  saw.  The  lion  "cleared,'*  but  round  a 
bush  the  lioness  suddenly  came  and  came  fast.  Captain 

ran,  and  his  gun-boy,  Malim,  once  in  my  employ,  a  lad 

brave  to  rashness,  standing  his  ground,  was  pulled  down 
immediately.  Now  the  most  extraordinary  thing  about 
this  true  story  is  that,  while  serving  with  this  same  gallant 
officer,  four  months  before,  Malim  had  been  slightly  mauled 
by  another  lion.  On  this  occasion  (it  happened  near  the 
Tana  River)  his  bwana  also  ran  away,  and  the  boy's  life 
was  only  saved  because  a  man  now  in  my  employ  stood  by 
the  gunbearer  and  shot  the  lion,  which  was  standing 
over  his  body,  with  a  double-barrel  smooth-bore,  which  he 
carried.  After  the  second  affair  I  found  poor  Malim  in  a 
bad  way,  still  suffering  from  a  severe  mauling.  Several 
men,  now  in  my  employ,  were  on  these  gentlemen 's  sefari, 
and  there  is  unfortunately  no  doubt  whatever  as  to  the 
accuracy  of  the  facts.  What  induces  some  men  to  attempt 
dangerous  game  no  one  can  say.  That  many  who  are 
constitutionally  unfitted  for  its  pursuit,  do  come  out  here 
and  do  attempt  it,  everyone  in  the  country  knows.  But 
fortunately  such  a  scandalous  affair  as  this  one  is  rare  indeed. 
Ten  miles  due  east  of  Sergoit  rock,  an  easy  and  well- 
marked  pathway  worn  by  the  Elgoa  cattle  climbs  through 
the  dense  forest  ridge  to  one  of  the  gathering  points  of  this 
tribe.  This  trail  opens  up  to  traveller  or  sportsman  a  com- 
pletely different  country.  A  country  that  has  as  yet  never 
been  hunted  by  the  white  man.  And  at  its  very  head  there 


NZOIA  PLATEAU  AND  ITS  TRIBES       229 

is  a  view  as  extensive  and  as  lovely  as  any  in  the  land.  Not 
even  excepting  that  from  the  Kikuyu  Escarpment  into  the 
Rift  (Kedong)  valley.  As  you  ride  along  Sergoit  plain 
to  northward  you  see,  some  miles  on  your  right,  the  heavy 
purple  fringe  of  the  great  forest  that  borders  it.  You 
have  probably  ridden  with  that  fringe  on  your  right  for 
almost  seventy  miles,  if  you  have  come  from  the  Ravine. 
You  have  noticed  the  swells  and  dips  of  the  great  wood, 
that  seems  to  cover  mile  after  mile  of  almost  level  land. 
Now,  to  the  east  of  the  rock,  you  turn  into  the  forest  and 
climb  gradually  for  a  mile  or  more.  Suddenly,  without 
any  warning,  you  pass  out  of  the  heavy  gloom  of  the  tropic 
wood.  You  find  yourself  on  a  rocky  shelf  that  juts  out  over 
a  precipitous  slope,  and  right  at  your  feet,  2500  feet  below, 
lies  a  vast  blue  valley.  The  change  from  dense  shade 
through  which  you  cannot  see  twenty  yards  ahead,  to  the 
splendid  spaciousness  of  the  view  beneath,  beyond  you 
and  all  around,  is  actually  bewildering. 

The  valley  of  the  "Kerio"  is  thirty  miles  wide  and  per- 
haps three  hundred  long.  The  river  from  which  it  takes 
its  name  flows  into  Lake  Rudolph.  The  opposite  side  of 
the  valley  wall  rises  much  more  gradually  than  the  western, 
on  whose  extreme  crest  you  stand.  On  this  side  is  Elgoa 
land.  Twenty  miles  to  northward  begins  the  Maraquette 
country,  and  farther  still  to  the  north  comes  the  Suk.  In 
front  of  you  to  the  east  are  the  Kamasea,  and  beyond  these 
again  to  northward  the  very  numerous  Turkana.  Thousands 
and  thousands  of  the  people,  whose  flocks  graze  these  hills 
and  whose  little  shambas  of  whimby  are  dotted  here  and 
there  amid  the  valley  woodlands,  have  never  seen  a  white 
man.  And  Hoey  was  the  first  ever  to  stand  on  this  partic- 
ular signal  rock  and  look  on  this  splendid  panorama. 
Joseph  Thompson  crossed  the  valley  in  1883.  The  old 
chief  of  the  Elgoa  was  a  friend  of  H.  's  and  him  we  partic- 
ularly wanted  to  meet.  The  manner  of  his  coming  was 


230  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

most  interesting.  We  had  an  Elgoa  native  with  us.  Soon 
as  we  stepped  out  of  the  forest  path,  into  the  dazzling  sun- 
shine, he  mounted  the  rock  and  gave  the  tribal  cry,  a  long 
falsetto  call.  Some  hidden  Elgoa  warrior  on  the  lookout, 
from  some  other  vantage  point  which  I  could  not  see,  took 
it  up;  then  another  and  still  farther  away  another;  and  far 
off  you  heard  the  cries  echoing  amid  the  craggy  sides  of  the 
great  steep.  Soon  armed  men  came  panting  up.  They 
knew  H.  and  welcomed  him,  spitting  on  their  hands  before 
they  shook  ours,  as  their  custom  is  if  they  wish  to  show 
that  they  thoroughly  approve  of  the  stranger.  The  gray- 
headed  chief  came  in  about  half  an  hour  from  somewhere. 
H.  knew  him  well,  he  had  been  his  guide  before  after 
elephant.  A  well-knit  man,  capable  and  shrewd;  but  for 
his  colour  he  might  very  well  have  posed  for  a  south-of-Ireland 
peasant,  a  splendid  hunter  in  years  gone  by;  now  I  fear 
that  as  he  had  some  cattle,  and  shambas  to  grow  whimby, 
and  sons  to  collect  honey  wherewith  to  compound  their 
much-loved  and  very  strong  beer,  he  does  far  more  drinking 
than  hunting. 

Not  one  hut  could  we  see,  as  we  examined  the  valley's 
slopes  and  level  floor.  These  people  hide  their  houses, 
as  do  the  N'dorobo.  They  have  only  one  village  proper, 
some  twenty  miles  to  the  south,  and  in  the  valley.  The 
Elgoa  have  defended  themselves  with  great  bravery  and 
complete  success  against  tribes  like  the  Nandi,  far  more 
numerous  than  they,  from  which,  by  the  way,  they  are 
probably  an  offshoot.  The  valley  beneath  them,  or  rather 
their  part  of  it,  they  have  not  always  been  able  to  hold  as 
their  own.  But  no  one  has  driven  them  from  the  precipitous 
slope,  where  their  little  dwellings  and  gardens  are  so  well 
hidden.  The  forest  belt  on  their  westward  side  has  served 
them  well  as  a  defence  in  times  long  past  against  that  interest- 
ing and  almost  forgotten  people  who  held  the  plateau  with 
their  stone  kraals;  and  in  later  days  against  the  raiding  Nandi. 


NZOIA   PLATEAU  AND   ITS  TRIBES       231 

Had  I  had  time  I  should  have  liked  greatly  to  hunt 
in  that  great  valley  and  travel  down  the  Kerio  River  to  Lake 
Rudolph.  The  tribes  that  live  on  its  banks  are  but  little 
known.  Some  of  them,  like  the  Maraquette  and  the  Cheran- 
gang  N'dorobo,  have  never  received  a  white  man  into 
their  forest  strongholds.  But  the  time  for  returning  had 
come  and  most  unwillingly  I  rode  away. 

The  numbers  and  power  of  the  Massai  tribe  in  old  days 
can  best  be  estimated  by  the  wide-spread  influence  they 
still  exercise  on  surrounding  and  sometimes  very  different 
peoples.  Their  customs  suited  no  doubt  their  circumstances. 
Their  war  organization  was  much  more  perfect  than  that 
of  any  of  their  enemies,  and  by  its  means  they  were  enabled 
to  hold  their  own  even  in  struggles  in  which  they  were 
heavily  outnumbered.  The  Elgoa  have  been  always  men 
of  the  forest.  Their  herds  were  insignificant  when  compared 
with  those  of  a  great  veldt  tribe.  Yet  somehow  among  them 
Massai  customs  have  been  universal  for  ages. 

In  their  method  of  fighting  they  seem  to  differ  radically 
from  the  neighbouring  tribes,  some  of  whom,  like  the  Kara- 
mojo,  fight  only  with  thrusting  spear  and  shield  (Karamojo 
do  not  use  either  sword  or  club  stick),  or  like  the  N'dorobo 
who  use  pointed  arrows  alone.  The  Elgoa  arm  half 
the  men  with  beautifully  balanced  spears,  and  narrow, 
oval  shields  of  buffalo  hide,  and  half  with  bows  and  poisoned 
arrows ;  the  spear  is  however  counted  the  more  honourable 
weapon.  Their  use  of  the  bow  to  support  the  spear  would 
suit  admirably  the  nature  of  the  country  they  must  defend. 

The  Elgoa  and  the  Cherangang,  their  near  neighbours, 
take  the  most  serious  view  possible  of  homicide  (of  course 
within  the  tribe;  no  significance  is  attached  to  killing  out- 
side of  it). 

The  old  chieftain,  who  was  much  looked  up  to  by  his 
people  and  who  was  everywhere  watched  over  and  waited 
on  by  his  two  fine  young  warrior  sons,  is  unquestionably 


232  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

well  informed;  he  has  travelled,  hunted  and  fought  a  great 
deal,  and  was  careful  and  slow  in  his  statements  made  to 
us  around  the  camp  fire.  In  the  main,  he  said,  the  Elgoa, 
Kamasea,  and  Maraquette  observe  the  same  tribal  customs. 

If  a  man  among  the  Elgoa  murders  another  member 
of  the  tribe — that  is,  kills  him  in  unfair  fight —  he  is  handed 
over  by  the  old  men  to  the  relatives  of  the  slain,  who  kill 
him,  no  fine  or  other  punishment  being  accepted. —  (This 
is  most  unusual  in  Africa.) 

All  his  property,  with  the  exception  of  certain  goats 
and  cows,  dues  as  fees  to  the  old  men  who  act  as  judges, 
goes  to  the  relatives  of  the  man  murdered. 

If  this  murdered  man  has  offered  grand  provocation 
to  his  slayer,  such  as  stealing  his  cattle  or  forcibly  taking 
away  his  wife  (and  the  first  offence  is  counted  a  much  graver 
one  than  the  second),  or  if  the  killing  is  purely  accidental, 
though  the  extreme  penalty  of  death  is  not  imposed,  still 
the  punishment  is  very  severe. 

The  old  men  decide  how  large  a  part  of  the  slayer's 
goods  goes  to  the  victim's  relatives  and,  when  these  ruinous 
fines  are  paid,  certain  social  marks  of  tribal  disfavour  remain. 

He  cannot  touch  blood.  (All  these  tribes,  as  do  also 
the  Massai,  count  milk  and  blood,  which  is  taken  from  their 
bullocks  at  regular  intervals  without  killing  them,  as  the 
chief  delicacies  of  their  lives.)  If  the  tribe  goes  to  war 
he  cannot  touch  spear  or  shield,  but  must  fight  among  the 
boys  with  bow  and  arrow  only.  He  can  purge  himself  from 
the  tribal  ban  and  these  disqualifications  only  in  one  way, 
and  a  most  extraordinary  way  it  is.  I  at  first  fancied  there 
must  be  some  mistake,  and  that  imperfect  knowledge  of 
the  language  had  led  to  a  misunderstanding,  but  after 
debating  the  question  for  several  nights,  and  after  much 
cross-questioning,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  there  could 
be  no  possible  mistake  made  in  reference  to  it. 

The  warrior  under  the  ban  of  this  homicide,  must  kill 


-r 


Mtt  J 


NZOIA   PLATEAU  AND  ITS  TRIBES       233 

three  women  (of  course  of  another  tribe).  The  smallest 
child  counts  on  the  tally.  When  he  gives  proof  of  this,  he 
is  received  formally.  Spear  and  shield  are  returned  to 
him,  and  he  may  drink  milk  and  blood.  I  tried  hard, 
but  in  vain,  to  find  from  the  Elgoa  some  explanation  of 
this  method  of  removing  the  tribal  ban.  All  they  would 
say  was,  that  they,  the  Kamasea,  and  the  Maraquette, 
only  obeyed  the  customs  hancled  down  to  them  by  their 
fathers. 

The  Cherangang  had  no  such  custom.  Tribal  homicide 
among  them  seemed  extremely  rare.  The  Cherangang 
chief  had  lost  three  daughters  and  two  wives,  some  years 
•before,  to  the  raiding  Nandi.  I  asked  him  whether  if  he 
.had  the  power,  he  would  kill  the  man  who  captured  them 
and  still  held  them.  For,  Enoch  Arden  like,  the  old  Cheran- 
gang had  made  the  dangerous  trip  across  the  plain,  and  had 
one  night  discovered  the  exact  whereabouts  of  his  missing 
family.  His  answer  was  strangely  pathetic.  "No,"  said 
lie,  "why  should  I?  He  took  them  by  strength."  I  am 
glad  to  say  steps  are  being  taken  to  bring  them  back 
to  him. 

The  Elgoa  woman  is  allowed  much  greater  freedom 
than  is  granted  to  the  Massai.  None  can  be  sold  by  her 
father  (inside  the  tribe  or  without)  to  anyone  unless  she 
approves  the  man.  She  can  and  often  does,  in  the  early 
days  of  her  independence,  seek  out  the  youth  she  desires. 
If  she  would  do  this,  she  must  observe  the  custom  of  her 
tribe.  She  must  waylay  him  in  the  forest  paths  and,  having 
met  him, wait  till  he  speaks.  He  says,  "What  are  you  looking 
for?"  She,  "I  am  looking  for  my  lover."  He,  "Well  let 
us  go."  Henceforth  she  is  his  wife,  and  takes  rank  as  his 
first  wife  if  he  marries  other  women. 

Their  burial  customs  differ  completely  from  those  of 
any  other  community.  If  a  man  or  woman  dies  leaving 
children,  these  take  the  body  and  bury  it  deeply  in  the  ground. 


234  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

All  the  community  keep  within  doors  for  two  days,  the  women 
crying  loudly.  They  honour  a  mother  in  this  respect,  as 
they  do  a  father.  If  anyone  dies  childless,  the  body  is  drawn 
into  the  bushes  and  left  to  the  fece  and  birds. 

The  one  thing  that  impressed  me  above  all  others  in 
meeting  and  questioning  the  Elgoa  and  Cherangang  is 
their  high  regard  for  the  truth.  No  one  but  an  ignorant 
and  most  unobservant  man  could  possibly  speak  of  those 
tribes,  who  are  still  uninfluenced  by  the  white  man,  as 
untruthful.  Very  much  the  reverse  is  the  case.  A  man 
questioned  by  you  will  pause  and  take  evident  pains  to  be 
accurate.  A  Swahili,  a  man  of  very  mixed  race,  or  a  porter 
who  has  been  for  years  round  a  town  or  boma,  may  lie  if 
you  confuse  him  or  make  him  afraid,  though  this  is  not  nearly 
so  common  a  thing  as  it  would  be  among  ourselves).  But 
a  native  East  African,  even  if  the  truth  be  to  his  manifest 
disadvantage,  scarcely  ever  lies.  Confuse  him  (he  is  easily 
confused)  and  he  may  try  to  say  what  he  fancies  his  bwana 
wants  him  to  say,  but  be  patient  with  him,  let  him  tell  his 
story  in  his  own  roundabout  way,  and  from  beginning  to 
end  he  will  so  tell  it  as  to  Jo  accurate  justice,  so  far  as  he 
knows,  to  his  adversary  as  well  as  to  himself.. 

I  have  been  deeply  touched  often,  as  I  watched  these 
poor  fellows  witnessing  truthfully  to  their  own  expected 
hurt  (I  speak  of  all  East  African  natives). 

In  Elgoa  the  liar  is  a  doubly  branded  man.  If  he  is 
known  to  have  lied  in  any  important  matter,  he  is  officially 
driven  from  the  community. 

Take  the  matter  of  their  dearly  loved  cattle  as  an  illus- 
tration. If  they  accept  the  care  of  some  cows  or  goats 
for  a  stranger,  years  may  pass  before  that  outsider  can 
claim  his  own;  he  may,  however,  depend  on  an  accurate 
accounting  for  every  calf  or  kid  born  during  the  interval, 
no  matter  how  long  it  be ;  no  one,  from  chief  to  herd  boy, 
but  will  tell  him  all  the  truth.  Fancy  what  the  result  of 


NZOIA   PLATEAU  AND   ITS  TRIBES       235 

such  truthfulness  would  be  among  our  own  western  cattle 
owners!  Ask  the  owners  of  small  herds,  that  try  to  keep 
their  property  intact  in  the  neighbourhood  of  great  ones, 
ask  the  men  who  really  know  what  goes  on  before  the  Indians 
are  goaded  into  killing  some  rancher's  cattle,  if  they  think 
western  truthfulness  approaches  the  standard  of  the  "  hea- 
then" Elgoa. 

If  a  case  comes  up,  when  the  chief  or  old  men  doubt 
the  truth  of  the  story ;  if,  for  example,  a  homicide  has  gone 
to  war,  and  comes  home  declaring  he  has  killed  three  women, 
and  so  is  absolved  from  the  tribal  "ban,"  and  his  fellow 
soldiers  doubt  him  or  think  he  has  killed  but  one  or  two  at 
most,  the  matter  comes  before  the  chief.  He  sends  the 
homicide  to  the  woods  to  kill  a  hare.  He  then  takes  a  piece 
of  the  hare 's  skin  and  buries  it  in  the  earth  at  the  door  of 
the  hut  the  suspected  liar  lives  in.  He  then  says,  "The  goats 
will  tread  over  that  skin  day  and  night  for  ten  days ;  if  you 
are  a  liar  you  will  die  before  the  tenth. "  I  could  not  find 
out  from  them  what  the  significance  of  this  "goat's  tread- 
ing," etc.,  was.  They  simply  said  it  had  been  their  custom 
for  ages,  and  that  it  was  effectual,  "for  the  liar  died."  I 
should  think  he  probably  did  die.  They  often  used  the 
word  God,  pointing  to  the  sky.  They  speak  of  God's 
will,  "if  God  is  kind"  to  them  they  will  get  honey,  kill 
elephant,  escape  death  in  war,  or  have  no  visitation  of  the 
cattle  sickness,  etc.,  etc.  But  further  than  that  they  seem 
to  have  no  idea  of  the  Divine.  They  have  no  religious 
ceremonies  except  the  initiation  of  the  young  people.  No 
idols  or  fetishes  of  any  sort.  There  are  some  crags  on  Elgo 
highly  metaliferous  on  which  they  believe  no  man  can 
stand  in  a  storm  and  live.  This,  so  far  as  I  could  find, 
is  the  only  spot  to  which  any  of  the  tribe  ascribe  a  sacred 
(if  it  could  be  so  called)  significance. 

I  asked  them  what  they  meant  by  God.  And  how 
they  knew  there  was  a  God  and  the  old  man  said,  "I  fall 


236  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

asleep,  and  while  I  am  asleep  something  speaks.  It  says, 
'your  cattle  will  die,  you  will  find  honey,  the  elephants  are 
coming/  I  wake  up,  there  is  no  one  there  who  could 
have  spoken  to  me,  it  must  be  God." 

Then  he  turned  to  me  and  said,  "We  black  men  do  not 
know,  but  you  white  men  know  everything;  what  do  you 
think  of  God?"  It  was  a  sobering  and  most  searching 
question.  When  we  were  leaving  them,  without  any  request 
made,  the  Morans  and  Laiock  formed  a  column  and  broke 
into  a  dancing  song  and  dance.  The  chief's  son,  a  fine  youth 
of  whom  the  old  man  was  evidently  proud,  was  marshall 
and  leader.  It  was  the  finest,  clearest  song  I  have  heard 
in  Africa,  and  they  danced  well.  The  first  song  was  the  song 
to  the  women: 

"Oh  women  you  need  not  fear, 
'These  are  our  friends,  not  enemies." 

The  second  to  the  birds: 

" Ab  birds,  you  will  not  feed  on  men, 
You  may  fly  away.     There  is  no  war." 

Of  the  upper  Cherangang  N'dorobo  I  have  already  said 
something.  Their  customs  of  circumcision,  the  high  regard 
for  truth,  the  purity  of  the  women,  so  far  as  strangers  are  con- 
cerned, are  identical  with  those  of  their  neighbours,  the  Elgoa. 
They  have,  however,  little  regard  for  the  bodies  of  their 
dead;  and  unless  a  man  has  gained  great  power  among 
them,  they  treat  the  corpse  as  all  dead  are  treated,  leaving 
it  to  beast  and  bird. 

Simple,  truthful  and  most  lovable  peoples  these  untouched 
East  Africans  surely  are.  Where  their  customs  are  vicious, 
where  they  err  grossly,  they  do  so  innocently;  they  but 
follow  in  the  steps  of  those  who  have  gone  before.  Perpetual 
war  they  have  been  for  ages  accustomed  to,  and  in 
warfare  they  are  ruthless,  like  all  savage  peoples,  yet 
they  are  far  from  cruel,  and,  as  they  have  told  me 
again  and  again,  except  where  a  man  seeks  to  purge  himself 


NZOIA  PLATEAU  AND  ITS  TRIBES       237 

from  the  tribal  ban  of  manslaughter,  they  never  kill  women 
or  children,  and  torture  is  unknown.  Smallpox  has  occas- 
ionally decimated  them,  so  much  you  can  see;  but  it  is; 
the  white  man's,  or  yellow  man's,  coming  that  threatens 
their  ruin. 

I  can  fancy  no  journey  more  fascinating  than  one  under- 
taken to  visit  the  almost  unknown  peoples  of  this  beautiful 
and  healthy  part  of  East  Africa.  The  tribes  whose  country 
borders  the  great  lake,  have  already  experienced  the  pro- 
foundly modifying  influences  of  civilization.  That  the 
Waganda  have  on  the  whole  gained  thereby,  there  can  be 
no  doubt.  They  are  a  prosperous  and  well-organized  people 
— but  how  these  wild  children  of  Africa  will  live  under 
the  changing  circumstances  that  await  them  is  not  so  easy 
to  foresee.  As  I  write  six  Boer  wagons  slowly  cross  the 
sky  line.  They  are  but  the  advance  guards,  doubtless, 
of  large  numbers  soon  to  arrive.  I  cannot  but  see  in  these 
Dutch  immigrants  the  visible  symbols  of  the  future  of  this 
country,  and  anxiously  I  ask  myself  how  these  simple, 
lovable  companions  of  my  wandering  will  fare  at  the  unknown 
strangers '  hands  ? 

On  the  rich  plains  for  long  centuries  the  N'dorobo 
has  gathered  his  meat  harvest  and,  drying  it  in  the  sun,, 
has  slipped  away  to  his  mountain  home.  Soon,  very  soon, 
there  will  be  none  to  gather.  Game  disappears  before  the 
Boer  as  green  grass  before  the  grasshopper.  I  fear  me  great- 
ly N'dorobo,  and  in  time  Elgoa  too,  will  disappear  as  com- 
pletely as  the  game. 

The  Waganda  hold  their  own,  on  rich  lands  bordering 
the  lake  chiefly,  because  there  are  none  to  dispossess  them. 
Their  country  is  in  time  deadly  to  the  white  man.  He  cannot 
live  and  breed  there.  But  here,  if  anywhere  in  East  Africa, 
Englishman  and  Boer  can  found  and  maintain  a  real  home. 
You  have  not  to  think  of  the  climate,  no  fever  threatens 
you.  Unless  some  new  and  evil  surprise  springs  up,  some 


238  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

unknown  epidemic  sweeps  away  the  herds,  as  is  always 
possible  on  this  continent,  this  would  seem  to  be  the  sana- 
torium of  the  Protectorate.  Alas,  in  so  highly  favoured  a 
region  small  place,  I  fear  me,  may  be  found  for  these  children 
who  for  ages  have  possessed  it,  and  who  have  fought  bravely 
and  often  paid  dearly  in  blood  the  price  of  its  possession. 


CHAPTER  X 

GOOD-BYE  SERGOIT 

THE  Nzoia  Plateau  and  the  country  to  north  of  it  bounded 
by  the  Suk  mountains,  is  only  a  little  corner  in  the 
great  and  very  imperfectly  known  territory  called  British 
East  Africa,  but  for  travellers  and  sportsmen  its  interests 
are  unsurpassed.  I  feel  I  have  good  grounds  for  urging 
its  claims  on  all  who,  like  myself,  enjoy  seeing  the  strange 
things  and  people  of  this  old  world  of  ours,  before  they  are 
changed  beyond  recognition. 

Under  these  inevitable  processes  we  call  civilizing, 
all  things  belonging  to  savage  man  suffer  change.  The 
tribes  lived  and  only  lived  by  struggling;  failed  in  the  fight 
or  won.  Some  quality,  not  unworthy  to  survive,  there  always 
must  have  been. 

We  come  suddenly,  ruthlessly;  and  in  a  few  years  the 
long  past  is  swallowed  up  and  forgotten,  as  though  it  had 
never  been. 

We  call  them,  nay  we  force  them,  from  paths  and  cus- 
toms and  laws  they  knew,  to  ways  they  know  nothing  of;  our 
ways,  not  their  ways. 

We  take  from  them  what  they  have  slowly  learned  to 
approve  and  value;  we  give  them  in  exchange,  what  costs 
us  little,  sometimes  alas,  our  cheapest  and  our  worst,  both 
in  vices  and  in  men. 

Kindly  pardon  my  digression  and  let  me  get  back  to 
my  last,  involuntary,  lion  ride. 

Our  camp  was  pitched  ten  miles  north  of  the  Rock  by 
a  little  sluggish  stream  that  crawled  down  to  the  sources 
of  the  Nzoia. 

239 


240  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Five  o'clock  tea,  the  most  pleasant  of  all  the  incidents 
in  a  pleasant  day,  was  just  over,  when  in  rushed  a  "boy" 
to  say  that  two  great  lions  (simba  koubwa)  were  feeding  on 
a  kongoni  not  half  a  mile  away.  He  was  a  thoughtful 
fellow  too,  for  he  had  left  his  comrade  (they  always  go  out 
from  camp  two  and  two)  up  a  tree,  marking  them. 

We  had  come  down  from  the  high  veldt  into  a  grassy  and 
bushy  country  most  unsuitable  for  riding.  J.  J.  W.  had  that 
morning  come  on  two  fine  lions,  and  had  very  wisely  refused 
to  let  his  syce  or  his  hunter  attempt  to  ride.  And  when  I 
swung  on  to  my  faithful  mule,  I  had  no  intention  on  earth 
of  "riding"  these  lions  just  reported  to  me  nor  I  think  had 
H.  We  simply  mounted  as  the  men  brought  our  riding 
animals  round,  because  we  could  see  better  from  their 
backs. 

It  was  quickly  arranged  that  J.  J.  W.  should  go  with 
his  man,  cautiously  up  to  the  kill,  and  H.  and  I  and  my 
mounted  syce,  swung  far  off  to  the  right,  just  in  case  the 
lions  might  slip  off  that  way,  wounded  or  not. 

From  a  distance  we  watched  our  friends  approach  the 
kill,  the  boy  in  the  tree  signalling  to  them  the  place.  They 
drew  up  to  it,  looked  around.  No  shot  rang  out.  The  lions 
had  cleared.  Where  ?  We  cantered  forward  on  a  chance, 
the  going  very  bad.  Rocky  ridges,  bushes  crowded  together, 
and  long  grass.  A  mere  chance  if  we  see  them  at  all.  Right 
to  the  rear  of  the  kill,  some  six  hundred  yards  back  of  it, 
there  was  a  narrow  clear  grass  ridge.  As  we  looked,  there 
surely — yes,  there  were  two  very  fine  males,  racing  side  by 
side  across  it,  and  almost  directly  athwart  our  front. 

That  sight  was,  I  fear,  too  much  for  us.  Anyway, 
with  a  yell  we  plunged  forward  and  once  going  there  was  no 
holding  back.  How  amid  that  labyrinth  of  bushes  and  grass 
we  held  them  I  don 't  know.  It  was  indeed  a  hard  bit  of  riding. 
But  by  dint  of  "going  it  blind"  we  did.  J.  J.  W.  's  syce  had 
come  up  on  my  left.  He  was  very  well  mounted  and  rode 


GOOD-BYE   SERGOIT  241 

well.  He  on  the  last  lion's  flank,  H.  on  the  leader's.  I 
was  very  near  the  white  pony  J.  J.  W.'s  syce  was  riding, 
when  in  an  instant,  the  second  lion  turned  between  two 
bushes  and  was  literally  swallowed  up  in  the  waving  grass. 
The  leading  beast  held  gallantly  on  past  the  covert,  and  H., 
riding  a  few  score  yards  furiously,  turned  him  to  bay  under 
a  fine  tree.  There  he  stood,  a  noble  sight  indeed,  advancing 
first  toward  one  man  then  toward  the  other.  Right  behind 
him,  not  twenty  yards  away,  was  the  cover  that  had  swal- 
lowed up  his  companion;  but  he  seemed  to  want  to  fight, 
and  never  even  looked  behind  him  for  the  support  he  surely 
deserved.  They  might  both  be  on  us  any  moment.  It 
was  a  very  nasty  place  indeed,  the  grass  waving  as  high  as 
our  ponies'  backs.  So  I  shot  him  just  as  quickly  as  I  could. 
We  waited  where  we  were  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour;  no 
knowing  in  the  least  where  the  second  lion  might  be  crouch- 
ing, and  frankly  not  too  anxious  to  go  into  the  thick  cover 
where  the  dead  lion  lay.  After  a  while  we  went  in  and 
measured  and  skinned  him.  He  was  a  splendid  beast, 
with  a  rich,  dark  mane  covering  his  shoulders.  Not  so 
fine  a  one  as  J.  J.  W.  shot  on  our  way  to  the  Rock,  but  a 
very  fine  one  and  very  large,  nine  feet  eleven  inches  as  he 
lay.  Four  lions  in  three  days,  seven  shots  to  the  four,  not 
so  bad ;  and  this  one  the  very,  very  last  I  will  ride  in  long 
grass  or  bushy  country. 

I  thought  I  had  had  the  very  best  of  lion  hunting,  when 
on  the  lower  part  of  this  same  plateau  three  months 
before,  I  got  in  five  consecutive  days  three  lions.  I  never 
expect  to  experience  any  sensation  quite  equal  to  that 
of  the  moment  when,  after  five  months'  fruitless  search,  I 
at  last  saw  the  great  black-maned  fellow  step  grandly  out 
of  his  harem,  and  stand  alone  in  the  morning  sunlight 
within  one  hundred  and  seventy  yards  of  my  rifle's  muzzle. 
It  was  a  grand  day's  hunting  too,  when,  from  morning  till 
late  afternoon,  I  followed  up  in  long  grass  two  lions  I  had 


242  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

wounded  in  a  band  of  ten,  and  at  last  got  one  of  them. 
On  both  these  occasions  I  was  alone  (saving  my  gun  bearers). 

But  to  my  mind  riding  lion  is  the  sport  above  all  others. 
It  is  unquestionably  a  dangerous  sport.  So  dangerous 
that,  unless  the  country  is  open  and  the  galloping  good, 
it  should  not  be  attempted.  Even  then  if  a  man  persists 
in  it,  it  is  only  a  question  of  time  till  his  luck  turns  and  he 
comes  to  grief.  If  he  allows  himself  to  be  carried  away  by 
excitement  and  ride  blindly  as  he  must  at  top  speed  amid 
high  grass  and  bush,  then  let  him  at  least  know  what  he  is 
doing,  and  what  he  is  inducing  or  allowing  others  with  him 
to  do.  He  is  simply  courting  death. 

Comparatively  few  lions  have  yet  been  ridden  in  this 
country,  and  already  several  men  have  been  mauled  and  two 
at  least  have  died.  I  am  not  guilty  of  exaggeration  in  say- 
ing so  much.  Under  reasonable  conditions  let  a  fair  rider 
and  shot  do  it  by  all  means.  Under  other  conditions  than 
these  let  him  determinedly  set  his  face  against  it.  The 
unwounded  lion  is  seldom  dangerous  to  anyone  on  foot. 
At  times  unwounded  lions  will  attack,  as  will  lions  that 
have  lain  down  after  a  hearty  meal  and  resent  being  dis- 
turbed. The  unwounded  lioness  sometimes  is  dangerous, 
especially  if  her  cubs  are  young.  But  the  lion  or  lioness, 
once  ridden,  is  a  quite  different  beast.  He  does  not  come  to 
bay  until  he  is  thoroughly  tired,  and  quite  convinced  that 
his  retreat  is  cut  off.  Once  he  is  bayed,  the  last  thing  he 
thinks  of  is  getting  away.  He  wants  to  get  his  enemy  down. 
He  runs  from  nothing  but  man,  and  it  is  as  though,  resenting 
the  indignity  man  has  placed  on  him,  he  rushes  in  to  kill. 
There  is  no  turning,  no  swerving  about  him  then,  unless 
he  has  received  a  death  shot.  Be  it  remembered  too,  that 
though,  broadside  on,  he  offers  an  ideal  mark;  head  on 
charging,  he  is  a  most  unsatisfactory  target.  The  bones 
of  the  forehead  which  protect  the  very  small  brain  are 
massive  and  slope  sharply  back.  A  well-aimed  bullet 


GOOD-BYE  SERGOIT  243 

glances  from  them  easily.  The  frontal  mark  of  a  full- 
grown  lion's  brain  is  not  four  inches  across  by  three  up  and 
down.  The  great  incisor  teeth  too,  are  apt  to  catch  the  bullet 
and  I  have  known  one  of  these  shattered  to  the  base  by  a 
nose  ball,  and  so  to  take  the  full  shock  of  the  shot.  That 
lion  staggered  but  did  not  pause  in  his  charge,  and  was  fortu- 
nately killed  at  a  distance  of  only  a  few  feet.  It  must,  too,  be 
remembered  that  the  man  on  horseback,  when  a  lion  has 
been  ridden,  can  do  little  to  help  the  man  on  foot,  who  has 
dismounted  to  kill.  Horses  are  restless,  and  riders  have  them- 
selves to  look  after.  If  there  are  two,  or  as  it  happened 
twice  with  me,  three  lions,  all  crouching  close  together,  some 
visible,  some  not,  any  one  in  the  party,  mounted  or  on  foot, 
may  have  to  look  out  for  himself  at  an  instant's  notice,  or 
have  to  stop  an  enraged  brute's  headlong  charge,  at  a  few 
yards'  distance,  or  go  down  under  it.  When  everything  goes 
as  it  has  been  planned  there  is  no  difficulty,  but  the  one  thing 
and  the  only  thing  that  is  certain  about  lion  shooting  is, 
that  no  man  can  say  beforehand  what  unexpected  turn  mat- 
ters may  take.  I  have  seen  many  natives,  gunbearers  and 
hunters,  who  have  been  mauled  and  yet  who  still  cheerfully 
followed  the  bwana  up  to  lion.  But,  so  far  as  I  have  been 
able  to  learn,  few  white  men  take  a  mauling  so  stoically. 
Once  downed  by  a  lion,  the  white  hunter  has  generally  had 
enough  of  him.  One  indisputably  brave  man,  who  holds, 
I  believe,  the  record  for  lions  killed  in  East  Africa  (an  extra- 
ordinary record  it  is,  and  was  of  course  made  some  years 
ago  —  it  is  fifty-two)  openly  states  that  he  cannot  and  will 
not  face  another.  He  was  mauled  at  last,  curiously  enough, 
by  a  very  young  lion. 

As  to  the  best  weapon  to  use,  men  of  course  will  differ. 
Each  man  will  most  likely  advocate  the  gun  he  can  shoot 
best  with,  and  there  is,  I  think,  no  better  rule.  But  gener- 
ally speaking,  heavy  rifles  are  not  the  thing;  they  are 
awkward  to  handle  and  burdensome  to  carry,  and  once 


244  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

lions  are  on  foot,  one  absolutely  necessary  rule  for  every 
man  to  follow  is  to  take  his  own  gun,  and  never  give  it  up  to 
anyone  for  an  instant  till  he  knows  his  lion  is  stone  dead. 

Some  men  have  theories  that  the  muscles  on  a  lion's 
chest  and  shoulders  are  so  unusually  tough  that  ordinary 
good  soft  nose  ammunition  driven  from  modern  rifles  fails 
to  penetrate  properly.  That  this  is  a  mistake  I  can  confidently 
assert.  I  have  always  taken  care  to  search  closely  the  traces  of 
bullets  fired  by  myself  and  by  others  in  the  dead  game.  Now 
the  rifle  I  used  to  kill  hundreds  of  animals  in  Africa  is  a  .350 
Rigby  Mauser,  a  gun  with  many  solid  advantages  and  of 
course  some  disadvantages.  The  advantages  are  an  unusually 
heavy  bullet  and  a  good  charge  of  powder.  For  a  repeating 
rifle  the  bullet  is  a  good  deal  longer  than  those  fired  from 
repeating  rifles  generally,  much  longer  than  the  bullets 
of  a  new  Winchester  pattern.  It  has  not  the  velocity 
claimed  for  several  of  those  new  rifles  that  are  thrust  on 
the  market  by  their  makers  almost  monthly.  These  I  dare 
say  do  shoot  up  to  the  velocity  claimed  for  them,  but  be  it 
remembered,  velocity  can  only  be  won  by  two  methods: 
shortening  the  bullet,  or  increasing  the  charge  of  powder 
To  increase  the  charge  means  to  increase  the  weight  of  the 
gun.  To  shorten  the  bullet  means  inevitably  to  lessen 
its  penetration,  and  so  its  killing  powers. 

Now  for  the  disadvantages  of  the  weapon.  The  heavy 
bullet  means  a  comparatively  high  trajectory.  You  aim, 
for  instance,  for  argument's  sake  let  us  suppose,  with  abso- 
lute accuracy  at  a  kongoni's  shoulder  at  three  hundred 
yards'  distance.  But  the  antelope  is  four  hundred,  not  three 
hundred  yards  away;  well,  the  heavy  bullet  will  pass 
beneath  its  brisket. 

Then  another  thing,  the  bullet  shoves  too  much  lead 
at  the  point  and  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  have  not  yet  been  able 
to  convince  the  Rigby  firm  of  this  most  evident  and  palpable 
fault.  Compare  the  German  bullet  for  the  8  mm.  Mannlicher 


GOOD-BYE  SERGOIT  245 

rifle  (which  is  an  ideal  bullet)  with  the  .350  Rigby,  and  the 
difference  is  apparent  to  a  tyro.  Instead  of  a  big  soft  lead 
snout,  which  is  forever  in  danger  of  being  battered  out  of 
shape,  as  day  after  day  it  jogs  about  in  the  magazine  of  the 
rifle,  the  Mannlicher  just  shows  the  lead,  neatly  protected  by 
a  close  rim  of  the  nickel,  and  that  is  all. 

My  contention  then  is,  that  the  .350  Mauser  bullet, 
though  a  heavy  one,  still  does  not  penetrate  in  any  unusual 
way  the  game  shot  with  it.  I  have  often  shot  kongoni 
running  from  me,  in  the  rump,  and  never  found  that  this 
bullet  had  ranged  forward  into  the  vitals.  Yet,  and  this  is 
the  point,  that  bullet  invariably  goes  right  into  a  lion's 
vitals,  whether  it  be  fired  into  the  side  or  the  shoulder  or 
breast  of  a  full-grown  male.  I  have  found  it  then  a  very 
serviceable  weapon.  Its  shock  is  heavy.  And  I  find  I  can 
shoot  more  accurately  with  it,  than  with  any  double-barrel 
rifle  I  possess.  It  does  not  weigh,  with  magazine  full,  quite 
8J  Ibs.,  which  is  not  heavy  for  a  big  game  rifle.  And  if  you 
can  approximately  estimate  your  distances  from  game  you 
desire  to  kill,  I  find  it  very  accurate  indeed.  I  must  say, 
however,  that  several  men  I  know  who  understand  some- 
thing about  rifles  (and  be  it  remembered,  many  a  man  who 
is  a  good  shot  knows  little  or  nothing  of  them)  have  not 
found  this  rifle  work  as  satisfactorily  as  I  have.  Another 
advantage  of  the  .350  Mauser  is  that  it  is  not  too  heavy 
to  carry  in  the  hand,  even  when  you  are  forced  to  ride  at 
top  speed  over  rough  ground.  A  .450  for  close  quarters 
will,  of  course,  smash  things  up  more,  and  so  is  a  better 
weapon,  but  you  have  to  sit  right  down  and  ride  close  to 
keep  a  lion's  company,  and  a  heavy  gun  is  a  good  deal  of 
a  handicap.  As  a  gun  to  fall  back  on  at  very  close  quarters 
there  can  be  nothing  better  than  a  good  double-barrel 
smooth  bore,  to  the  handling  of  which  you  have  grown 
thoroughly  accustomed.  The  right  barrel  loaded  with 
ball,  the  left  s.  s.  g.,  a  good  charge  of  powder  behind 


246  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

both  of  them.  If  I  must  go  up  to  a  lion  that  is  wounded, 
when  the  cover  is  thick  (something  I  sincerely  hope  no  one 
who  reads  this  account  of  my  wanderings  will  ever  be  induced 
to  do)  I'd  rather  go  with  such  a  weapon  in  my  hand  than 
with  any  rifle  that  was  ever  built.  You  can  shoot  with  it 
quicker  and  truer  than  with  anything  else. 

Speaking  of  rifles  and  their  use,  I  would  venture  to  give 
a  piece  of  advice  to  those  who  are  buying  a  battery.  Make 
sure  that  your  trigger  pulls  are  alike.  Many  men  never 
seem  to  pay  any  attention  to  this  most  important  detail. 
Especially  is  it  needful  to  see  to  this  if  you  are  using  guns 
which  you  change  constantly  in  a  day's  sport.  If  one, 
let  us  say  your  every  day  gun,  has  a  light  pull  (four  Ibs.) 
or  a  sharp  pull,  and  your  heavier  rifle  has  a  heavier  or  drag- 
ging pull,  you  are  likely  to  be  exceedingly  annoyed  by  the 
bad  shooting  that  you  make  on  just  those  occasions  when 
you  would  wish  to  do  well.  Yet  no  man  could  do  good 
shooting  under  the  circumstances.  Our  American  Win- 
chesters have  two  very  strong  points  in  their  favour:  their 
breech  action  is  much  quicker  and  easier  than  that  of  any 
"bolt  gun"  (all  the  European  magazine  rifles  are  of  this 
make),  and  the  pull  off  is  to  my  mind  perfect.  The  insuper- 
able objection  to  them  is,  the  action  cannot  stand  the 
heavy  powder  charge  that  a  heavy  bullet  requires,  and  their 
ammunition  cannot  be  obtained  here,  when  fresh  ammuni- 
tion is  desirable. 

It  takes  quite  a  time  for  one  accustomed  to  the  Winches- 
ter to  familiarize  himself  with  the  sliding  bolt  of  Mannlichers 
or  Mausers.  And  I  cannot  too  strongly  urge  on  all  who 
intend  using  these  weapons,  to  constantly  practise,  first 
with  empty  magazine  and  then  with  full,  the  manipulation 
of  the  gun  they  are  going  to  work  with.  The  slightest 
downward  jerk  of  the  Winchester  lever  throws  the  full  or 
empty  shell  over  the  shoulder.  In  the  bolt  rifle  the  latter 
has  to  be  drawn  right  back  to  the  full  length  of  its  slide, 


GOOD-BYE   SERGOIT  247 

before  it  is  reversed  and  driven  forward.  Failing  in  this, 
failing  by  only  half  an  inch  to  pull  the  bolt  quite  back, 
the  empty  shell  is  at  once  jammed  back  into  the  chamber 
on  top  of  the  full  one  rising  up  from  the  magazine  below. 
This  causes  an  immediate  and  very  bad  jamming  of  the 
piece.  You  constantly  hear  complaints  of  bolt  guns  jam- 
ming when  rapid  fire  is  needed.  I  am  convinced  the  fault 
then  lies  not  with  the  gun  or  its  action,  which  is  quite 
automatic,  but  with  the  excited  manipulator  who,  in  his 
hurry  to  put  another  cartridge  in,  has  not  taken  time  or 
care  to  throw  the  old,  used,  cartridge  out.  I  know  this  was 
so  in  my  own  case,  when  in  America  I  first  began  to  use  the 
Mannlicher  instead  of  the  Winchester,  and  I  cannot  accuse 
myself  of  carelessness  in  the  use  of  firearms.  I  lost  a  great 
moose  in  that  way  once,  and  a  good  mouflon  too,  in  Sardinia. 
One  American  rifle  I  could,  however,  strongly  commend 
to  all  going  on  sefari.  That  is  a  .25  single-shot  Stevens. 
The  most  perfect  toy  rifle  I  know,  a  long  pistol  barrel, 
with  an  adjustable  skeleton  stock,  the  whole  weighing 
only  3!  Ibs.  Nothing  can  be  more  accurate  up  to  75  yards, 
and  it  is  quite  beautifully  sighted.  Have  the  high  foresight 
with  a  small  bead,  under  a  heavy  protecting  steel  concave 
protector  (the  usual  sight  for  this  rifle)  and  a  peep  back 
sight.  For  shooting  guinea  fowl,  and  wild  fowl  generally, 
there  can  be  nothing  better.  A  twelve  bore  makes  noise 
and  the  cartridges  are  heavy.  Guinea  fowl,  a  quite  impor- 
tant article  of  diet,  are  often  very  hard  to  reach  with  a  smooth 
bore  gun.  They  will  keep  running  at  about  45  yards  in 
front  of  you,  and  on  the  ground  at  that  distance  take  a  lot 
of  killing.  Then  there  are  many  other  birds  shy  of  approach. 
The  bustards,  the  lesser,  and  the  greater,  a  big  rifle  tears, 
and  to  get  within  small  shot  range  is  often  impossible. 
For  monkeys  and  many  small  things  that  you  will  want  to 
get,  use  the  Stevens.  On  no  account  burden  yourself 
with  one  of  these  much-advertised  .22  Winchester  repeaters 


248  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

for  such  work.  In  accuracy,  good  sighting  and  in  weight 
they  are  very  inferior  to  the  Stevens;  moreover,  they  are 
almost  impossible  to  keep  really  clean,  and  once  foul  a  .22 
won't  shoot  well.  A  .25  is  much  easier  to  keep  clean.  I 
fear  it  will  seem  to  some  that  I  have  written  on  lion  hunting 
with  a  degree  of  assurance  that  ill  becomes  one  who  has  only 
hunted  this  grandest  of  all  game  for  little  more  than  a  year. 
I  may  not  be  able  to  clear  myself  from  the  charge.  But 
I  can  say  at  least,  in  extenuation  of  my  fault,  if  fault  there  is, 
that  I  have  been  privileged  to  know  very  well  indeed  one 
or  two  men  whose  experience  of  lion  hunting  has  been  very 
extended.  I  have  submitted  what  I  put  down  to  their 
judgment,  and  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  I  have 
written  nothing  with  which  they  do  not  thoroughly  agree. 

I  had  one  more  rather  remarkable  ride  before  leaving 
this  beautiful  country.  It  was  after  a  cheetah.  Now  as 
everyone  knows  there  are  few  animals  that  can  put  up 
the  pace  that  this  hunting  leopard  can.  You  see  them 
oftener  than  you  do  leopards,  which,  though  they  are  quite 
numerous,  are  seldom  seen.  The  cheetah  seem  to  know 
their  own  powers  and  do  not  seem  to  mind  showing  their 
yellow-black  spotted  beauty  even  in  the  daytime.  They 
run  their  prey  down,  and  trotting  across  the  open  veldt 
you  sometimes  come  on  them.  Unless  well  mounted  you 
may  save  yourself  and  your  pony  the  trouble  of  a  race. 
And  unless  the  ground  is  very  open,  no  matter  how  fast 
your  mount  is,  their  pursuit  is  hopeless. 

As  H.  and  I  were  returning  southward  from  our  elephant 
hunt  on  the  Turquell,  we  sighted  a  mother  and  two  half- 
grown  cubs.  There  was  a  long  stretch  of  good  galloping 
ground,  and  gallop  we  did  for  all  we  were  worth.  The 
cubs  soon  took  to  the  grass  and  our  men  following  secured 
one  of  them,  getting  a  good  scratching  as  they  did 
so.  The  full  grown  mother  gave  us  a  tremendous  run, 
fully  three  miles,  and  then  stopped.  I  noticed  a  strange 


GOOD-BYE   SERGOIT  249 

thing  about  the  stopping.  She  is  bounding  along  though 
much  distressed,  and  in  the  ver}  middle,  as  it  were,  of  her 
stride,  stopped  with  quite  extraordinary  quickness,  and  then 
never  moved.  Cheetahs  are  not  dangerous,  and  I  rode  her 
as  close  as  I  could.  She  lay  down  broadside  on,  crouching 
till  shot. 

I  have  made  little  reference  to  any  but  the  dangerous 
game  of  the  Nzoia  country,  as  in  its  pursuit  I  was  chiefly 
interested,  but  its  splendid  water-buck,  and  the  fine  brush- 
buck  that  are  still  abundant  along  the  banks  of  its  marshy 
rivers,  carry  trophies  that  can  seldom  be  equalled.  Here 
alone  the  kobus  kob  is  found;  and  reed-buck  are  larger 
and  more  plentiful  than  anywhere  I  have  been. 

I  had  no  idea  that  buffalo  were  to  be  found  amid  the 
Cherangang  mountains  and  in  Elgoa  country,  till  my  second 
sefari  to  those  parts.  When  I  did  get  to  know  the  wildmen, 
and  had  the  inestimable  advantage  of  their  experience, 
I  was  limited  for  time;  and  the  short  grass  season,  during 
which  it  would  have  been  quite  easy  to  secure  all  the  buffalo 
I  wanted,  was  over.  We  made  afterward  a  very  long  and 
unsuccessful  journey  especially  to  kill  buffalo,  whereas  if  we 
had  been  in  touch  with  the  N'dorobo  at  that  time,  we 
had  all  we  needed  within  two  days'  march  of  our  camp. 

This  again  illustrated  one  of  the  greatest  difficulties 
the  sportsman  must  meet  in  the  country.  It  is  new;  no 
man  knows  it  yet.  The  district  commissioners,  who  are 
usually  capable  and  hard-working  men,  have  not  had  time 
to  learn  their  districts,  or  even  to  meet,  much  less  know, 
the  tribes  they  have  been  appointed  to  rule.  Mr.  A. 
B.  Percival,  the  head  game  ranger,  and  his  two  assistant 
rangers  are  active  and  indefatigable  in  their  efforts  to 
accomplish  the  impossible  tasks  set  them.  But  how  can 
three  men,  even  if  they  commanded  the  services  of  a  per- 
fectly equipped  airship,  oversee  such  a  country  of  mountain, 
desert,  swamp,  Sahara,  and  forest  as  B.  E.  A.  A  country 


250  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

of  probably  500,000  square  miles  (no  one  has  measured 
it  yet,  but  such  is  the  estimate  of  Mr.  Gregory,  one  of  the 
ablest  and  best  informed  of  those  who  have  written  on  it). 

These  things  being  held  in  mind,  I  would  say  to  all  who 
come  here,  get  all  the  information  you  can  from  officials, 
then  get  in  touch  with  the  best  natives,  and  then  go  slow 
and  take  time. 

New  men,  new  beasts,  new  birds  and  insects  are  round 
you  everywhere.  Go  out  to  watch  and  study  the  wild 
life,  not  merely  to  kill  it. 

Often  the  most  interesting  time  in  the  day  to  me,  was 
the  quiet  hour  or  more  I  tried  to  take  before  the  sun  set.  I 
would  choose  a  spot  from  which  I  could  command  a  view 
and,  staying  quite  still,  would  watch.  In  the  evening 
I  never  shot  unless  I  had  to.  Twice  I  saw  at  that  time 
a  cautious  leopard  stealing  round  in  the  grass,  and  each 
time  I  gave  up  my  nature  study  to  follow  him,  but  in  vain. 

Once  I  saw  a  great  porcupine  come  out  of  his  secret 
hiding  place,  almost  at  my  feet.  Mr.  F.  J.  Jackson, 
perhaps  the  best  naturalist  in  the  country,  tells  me  he 
has  never  succeeded  in  seeing  one,  and  that  I  had  rare 
luck.  I  had  chosen  a  low  rocky  ridge,  about  two 
miles  from  camp,  as  my  goal.  The  sun  was  setting 
gloriously  over  Lake  Naivasha,  and  beneath  me  hundreds 
of  Grant's  antelope,  "Tommy,"  and  zebra  were  feeding 
quietly. 

I  heard  a  gentle  sort  of  rattling  noise  in  some  rocks 
not  ten  yards  below  where  I  sat,  and  out  of  a  big  crack 
in  them  a  black  nose  peeped.  He  never  looked  above 
him  —  animals  seldom  do  —  and  when  he  had  satisfied 
himself  that  the  coast  was  clear,  out  he  came.  The  way 
that  porcupine  unfolded  his  immense  sheaf  of  quills  was 
a  wonder.  First  he  shot  them  out  a  little,  as  though  he 
were  treating  himself  to  a  yawn,  and  then  wider  and  wider 
the  white  and  black  quills  were  spread  and  flattened  on 


GOOD-BYE  SERGOIT  251 

the  ground.  It  looked  as  though  he  had  been  forced 
to  fold  himself  up  like  an  umbrella,  in  his  narrow  rocky 
retreat,  and  that  now  he  could  not  stretch  himself  suf- 
ficiently. After  some  minutes  he  gathered  his  prickly 
belongings  round  him,  and  soberly  waddled  off.  I  watched 
him  for  a  long  time  till  he  turned  the  corner  of  a  rock  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away. 

A  little  earlier  in  the  evening  is  the  time  to  find  ostrich 
nests.  Ostriches  are  now  strictly  preserved;  they  are 
much  too  valuable  to  be  treated  any  longer  as  wild  game. 
Every  settler  wants  to  rear  the  young  and  gather  the  feather 
harvest.  Three  years  ago  stalking  an  ostrich  meant 
patient  work,  and  killing  one,  good  shooting.  Since  then 
this  unusually  canny  bird  has  quite  altered  his  habits. 
Then  you  could  not  get  near  him;  now  you  cannot  get 
away  from  him.  A  few  days  ago  an  old  cock,  protecting 
his  fine  brood  of  half-grown  youngsters,  chased  my  old 
mule  ignominiously  off  the  Fort  Hall  road,  a  few  miles 
out  of  Nairobi.  And  I  had  loudly  to  call  on  the  "boy" 
who  had  charge  of  the  brood  to  come  to  my  aid.  He 
kept  hissing,  and  shoving  his  beak  into  my  face.  By 
the  way  —  as  evidence  of  the  advancement  of  the  country 
—  I  had  scarcely  got  rid  of  the  great  cock,  when  my  poor, 
demoralized  mule  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  found  him- 
self confronted  with  a  motor  car,  with  the  result  that  we 
both  of  us  nearly  charged  the  stiff  barbed  wire  fencing 
that  lined  the  roadway. 

During  the  nesting  time  permits  are  given  to  gather 
the  eggs.  Now  an  ostrich's  nest  is  not  an  easy  thing  to 
find  by  any  means.  But  the  cock  bird  is  so  good  a  father, 
so  regular  in  his  hour  of  home-coming,  that  his  very  virtues 
betray  his  home.  During  the  dangerous  hours  of  the 
night  he  sits  on  the  eggs.  At  nine  in  the  morning  the 
hen  relieves  him.  And  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  punctually, 
he  comes  back  and  changes  places  with  her. 


252  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

These  two  hours,  nine  and  four,  are  kept  with  extraor- 
dinary exactness.  Men  who  make  a  business  of  collecting 
the  eggs,  if  they  are  in  a  country  where  a  view  can  be 
had  over  an  extensive  country,  find  that  they  can  do  better, 
by  going  to  such  vantage  points  at  nine  and  four  with  their 
field  glasses,  than  they  can  by  roving  over  the  country, 
even  when  assisted  by  sharp-eyed  natives.  They  have 
assured  me  they  can  almost  set  their  watches  by  the 
appearance  of  the  birds.  It  used  to  be  supposed  that 
the  broken  eggs  found  lying  round  a  nest  were  broken 
carelessly  by  the  birds,  or  by  the  attack  of  some  marauding 
hyena  or  jackal.  Evidence  is  accumulating  that  the 
hen  arranges  certain  of  her  left-over  eggs,  when  the  nest 
is  full,  at  such  a  distance  from  the  edge  of  the  nest  that 
both  she  and  her  faithful  lord  can  feed  on  them.  Ostriches, 
instead  of  being,  as  the  fables  had  it,  the  most  careless 
of  parents,  are  extraordinarily  brave  and  intelligent  in 
the  defence  of  their  nests  and  their  young. 

Several  months  have  passed  since  I  first  said  something 
in  these  notes  about  the  "honey  bird."  When  my  men 
told  me  that  this  strange  little  fellow  was  an  actually  reli- 
able guide  to  the  bee  tree,  and  that  the  natives  depended 
on  its  guidance  to  find  them  honey,  I  did  not  believe  it. 

Since  then  I  have  made  a  point  of  following  up  this 
little  feathered  challenger  whenever  I  could  do  so. 

About  the  size  of  a  small  brown  thrush,  creamy  white 
on  the  neck  and  upper  breast,  with  a  sharp  chattering 
cry,  it  will  light  on  a  bough  by  the  trail  side  and  flutter 
from  branch  to  branch. 

If  a  native  wants  honey  he  whistles  to  it  at  once.  The 
N'dorobo  and  Elgaos  sing  a  song  to  it:  'You  are  a  pretty 
little  bird  with  a  white  throat,  but  don't  tell  me  any  lies 
and  lead  me  straight  to  the  honey  tree." 

I  think  I  must  have  followed  the  bird  certainly  more 
than  a  dozen  times,  and  it  never  once  failed  to  "lead  me 


GOOD-BYE   SERGOIT  253 

straight  to  the  honey  tree."  You  must  be  a  little  patient 
for  it  will  flutter  with  seeming  aimlessness  before  you, 
flying  from  one  tree  to  another,  as  though  it  could  not 
quite  trust  you  to  give  it  a  fair  share  of  the  sweet  spoil. 
Then  it  makes  up  its  little  mind  that  it  cannot  have  what 
it  wants  without  your  aid,  and  flies  straight  to  the  tree 
it  has  marked.  I  have  followed  a  bird  for  many  hundred 
yards.  It  would  wait  for  me,  and  while  it  was  waiting, 
never  cease  to  utter  its  sharp,  chirping  cry.  Once  I  was 
up  it  would  go  on  again.  The  whole  proceeding  always 
seemed  to  me  very  wonderful. 

Mr.  Jackson  tells  me  the  bird  sometimes  leads  his 
follower  to  a  leopard  or  a  cerval  cat's  lair,  seemingly 
wishing  to  have  his  enemies  killed. 

Hyenas  are  very  numerous  all  over  the  Nzoia  Plateau. 
I  had  an  illustration  of  their  extraordinary  cunning.  We 
set  a  trap  for  some  that  would  keep  howling  hideously 
near  camp.  The  accompanying  (bad)  photograph  gives 
some  idea  of  how  it  was  set.  A  branch,  not  seen  in  the 
photograph,  stretches  over  the  trap.  Two  short  stakes 
are  driven  into  the  ground  two  or  three  inches  apart.  A 
cord  hangs  from  the  bough  above  and  supports  the 
Schneider  carbine,  which  moves  easily  between  them.  A 
crotched  stick  in  front  supports  the  muzzle  of  the  gun. 
This  is  cocked  and  a  string  passed  round  the  trigger  and 
fixed  to  the  two  stakes  between  which  the  butt  of  the  rifle 
hangs.  Fasten  meat  to  the  muzzle,  and  a  tug  at  that 
will  drag  the  gun  forward  against  the  string  across  the 
trigger,  and  anything  pulling  at  the  meat  is  shot  in  the 
head  or  chest. 

The  trap  had  not  been  set  a  couple  of  hours  the  first 
night  before  we  heard  the  shot.  We  went  down  in  the 
morning  and  found  a  young  hyena  dead. 

That  was  the  last  we  secured.  The  trap  was  set  con- 
stantly and  as  constantly  fired,  but  never  again  was  any 


254  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

harm  done.  We  gave  it  up  at  last  as  a  useless  expenditure 
of  ammunition.  We  fixed  thorn  bomas  round  it,  tried 
every  possible  device  to  force  the  visitor  to  pull  at  the 
meat  from  the  front,  but  in  vain. 

These  hyenas  certainly  knew  that  they  must  not  come 
at  the  meat  they  wanted,  and  which  they  always  carried 
away,  no  matter  how  securely  it  was  tied  on,  from  the 
front.  It  really  looked  as  though  they  had  placed  a  paw 
on  the  trigger  and  then  proceeded  to  dine  leisurely. 

I  never  saw  so  large  a  python  as  one  H.  secured  on  the 
Nzoia.  He  almost  walked  on  it  as  he  was  tramping  the 
border  of  a  large  swamp.  It  lay  fast  asleep  and  died 
immediately  at  a  shot  in  the  head.  The  skin  was  mag- 
nificently coloured  shining  with  a  purple  iridescence,  which 
left  it  soon  after  death.  Three  men  could  not  haul  the 
body,  which  measured  unskinned  24  feet  6  inches,  out  of 
the  soft  yielding  ground.  And  more  had  to  come  from 
camp  before  it  could  be  handled. 

Python  on  Victoria  are  not  uncommon,  but  are  not 
often  so  large  as  this  one. 

Snake  stories  are  proverbial,  and  here  is  one  actually 
true,  yet  so  unbelievable  that  it  could  have  happened 
nowhere  but  in  Africa: 

Captain ,  commanding  one  of  the  smart  steamers 

that  ply  round  the  great  lake,  was  bringing  to  Kasumo 
(the  rail-head  of  the  Uganda  road)  a  little  band  of  pas- 
sengers from  up  country  —  civil  officers,  hunters  and 
military  men  —  some  six  or  seven,  I  believe,  in  all.  They 
had  on  the  long  way  down  to  the  coast  been  celebrating 
too  constantly  their  temporary  return  to  the  homeland 
—  their  six  months'  leave  in  three  years'  service.  It 
was  late  afternoon,  and  since  there  is  no  hotel  at  Kasumo 
and  the  train  for  Mombassa  did  not  start  till  next  morning, 
all  the  party  remained  on  the  steamer  and  were  having 
five  o'clock  tea  —  shall  I  call  it  ?  —  on  deck.  Captain 


GOOD-BYE   SERGOIT  255 

was  sitting  with  the  rest  when  one  of  his  black  crew  came 
running  up  to  say  that  a  snake  was  swimming  round  the 
stern  of  the  ship.  Captain-  looked  over  the  side 

and  saw  a  big  python  that  had  probably  been  washed 
out  of  its  near  by  swampy  retreat  by  the  prevailing  heavy 
rains,  trying  to  make  a  landing  somewhere.  The  planking 
of  the  pier  and  the  side  of  the  steamer  were  too  much  for 
it,  but  making  its  way  round  the  ship,  it  came  to  the  ladder 
which  was  down  to  the  water's  edge  on  the  offside,  and 
began  to  crawl  up  the  sloping  steps  at  once.  A  great 
snake  crawling  on  shipboard!  Was  such  a  thing  —  even 
in  Africa  —  possible  ?  There  were  plenty  of  guns  to 
hand  and  the  men  standing  there  knew  how  to  use  them, 
but  each  looked  at  the  other  and  no  one  cared  to  be  the 
first  to  make  a  move.  The  Captain  took  in  the  situation 
and  with  his  smooth  bore  shot  its  head  off,  to  the  immense 
relief  of  some  of  his  companions.  The  python  measured 
sixteen  feet  four  inches. 

The  lion  when  possible  conceals  his  kill  carefully. 
If  thick  bushes  are  near  he  often  succeeds  in  hiding  it  long 
enough  for  even  the  vulture's  eye  to  permit  of  his  satisfying 
his  appetite  a  second  time. 

The  roar  of  a  lion  is,  as  everyone  knows,  a  much  debated 
point.  Some  will  have  it  that  the  historic  sound  is  one 
but  very  seldom  heard.  When  the  Jewish  poet  of  long 
ago  wrote,  "The  lions  roaring  after  their  prey  do  seek 
their  meat  from  God,"  he  used  a  term  it  seems  to  me  that 
suited  well  what  he  meant  to  describe.  In  many  places 
at  once,  and  often  all  night  long,  you  can  hear  it  in  East 
Africa.  Then  again  in  a  land  full  of  lion,  you  will  not 
hear  it  at  all. 

I  saw  twenty-seven  lions  in  five  days  once,  on  the 
Nzoia.  During  those  days  and  for  several  before  and 
after  them  no  lion  called  within  earshot  of  camp.  I  also 
found  two  lairs  in  daily  use  quite  close  to  that  camp. 


256  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that  lion  usually  hunt  at  a  long 
distance  from  the  place  where  the  family  lie  up  for  the 
day.  When  the  bands  are  divided  up  into  twos  and  threes 
this  may  not  be  so.  But  whenever  I  came  on  large  bands 
of  lion  I  never  found  kills  nearby.  (I  give  this  for  what 
it  may  be  worth.)  My  idea  is  they  hunt  far  away  from 
their  lair.  When  two  or  more  lionesses  and  a  partly 
grown  family  accompany  one  large  male,  they  make  a 
family  dwelling  place  that  there  is  no  mistaking.  I  have 
examined  several  of  these  but  never  found  in  or  near  any 
of  them  so  much  as  a  scrap  of  bone  or  meat.  When  the 
lion  family  jogs  homeward  it  does  so  very  silently.  There 
is  no  loud  grunting  indulged  in;  a  very  soft,  low  purring 
grunt  now  and  then  betrays  their  conclave,  that  is  all. 

When  shot  into  and  angered  they  will  grunt  as  they 
move  off,  and  snarl  as  they  crouch  or  wait  about  in  the 
grass,  undecided  whether  to  move  on  as  you  advance  toward 
them  or  no.  I  incline  to  believe  that  these  large  parties 
are  not  as  dangerous  to  follow,  when  one  or  two  of  them 
are  wounded,  as  a  single  lion  or  a  lion  and  lioness,  one  of 
them  wounded,  would  be.  One  of  the  gang  moves  on, 
none  of  the  gang  likes  being  left  behind,  so,  instead  of 
attacking  they  keep  on  the  move,  the  wounded  bringing 
up  the  rear. 

A  lion  wounded  to  death  will,  as  I  once  heard  him, 
roar  terribly  when  roused  from  his  lair  and  about  to  charge. 
But  an  unwounded  lion  coming  on  thrusts  the  head  forward 
and  the  ears  back,  shows  his  teeth  and  make  no  sound  but 
a  low  snarl. 

The  roaring  lion  is  the  lion  calling  to  his  mate  or  sig- 
nalling in  some  way  his  presence,  either  to  frighten  the 
game  not  yet  caught  or  to  call  a  friend  to,  or  warn  an 
enemy  from,  game  that  has  been  caught. 

The  distances  which  that  sonorous  sound  can  travel 
are  great.  Ordinarily  hearing  it,  you  fancy  the  beast 


GOOD-BYE   SERGOIT  257 

some  hundreds  of  yards  away,  whereas  he  is  probable 
miles.  When  a  lion  calls  really  near,  say  within  three 
hundred  yards  of  your  tent,  you  are  never  likely  to  forget 
it.  You  will  agree  with  your  men,  who  by  that  time 
are  likely  to  be  looking  you  up,  when  they  say,  "He 
makes  the  ropes  shake." 

In  hilly  country  I  have  heard  lions  quarrelling  or  calling 
over  a  rhino  carcass  at  seven  miles  distance  on  a  still  night. 

I  agree  with  the  Psalmist:  "Roaring  after  their  prey" 
is  the  best  description  of  the  sound  that  they  can  make 
when  they  so  choose. 

A  yellow  light  lingers  long  in  a  lion's  eye  after  death; 
much  longer  than  I  have  seen  light  live  in  any  other  dead 
animal's  eye.  I  have  wondered  at  the  reason. 

Unwillingly  at  last  I  turn  my  face  southward  and 
leave  behind  me  the  beautiful  land  over  which  I  have 
wandered  for  so  long.  I  am  back  once  more  among  the 
forest  edges  of  the  Mau. 

When  first  I  rode  this  trail  it  was  springtime,  or  a 
season  that  seemed  to  correspond  in  some  important  respect 
to  spring.  The  rains  were  just  beginning  and  the  whole 
country  was  one  green  carpet  of  short,  freshly  springing 
grass.  We  ate  quantities  of  succulent  mushrooms,  immense 
in  size,  and  excellent  in  flavour.  Springing  flowers  made 
the  veldt  gay. 

Now  the  land  is  a  rich  ripe  yellow,  where  creeping 
grass  fires  have  not  blackened  it.  The  vigorous  growth 
of  leaf  and  twig  has  been  checked  by  unbroken  days  of 
dry  heat.  And  all  the  flowers  that  cannot  rear  a  sturdy 
head  above  all  the  enclosing  tides  of  high  grass,  have 
disappeared  long  ago. 

The  change  is  great  between  May  and  October,  but 
the  borderland  of  the  forest  is  very  beautiful  still,  though 
with  a  different  beauty. 

The   crowns   of  the   trees   in   Africa   are   thicker   and 


258  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

heavier  in  quality  than  in  our  northern  woods,  they  are 
more  rounded,  they  branch  more  luxuriantly. 

Now  in  October,  as  though  following  the  custom  cf 
far  other  lands,  they  have  ripened  into  a  dull  burnt  gold, 
sometimes  deepening  into  a  fine  crimson. 

Nor  are  all  the  flowers  gone.  From  the  abrupt  edges 
of  the  wood,  where  it  meets  the  yellow  grass,  salvias  grow 
luxuriantly;  sometimes  filling  spaces  in  the  curving  forest 
line  with  banks  of  purple  flower  that  rise  fifteen  or  even 
twenty  feet  to  meet  the  spreading  boughs  stretched  out  to 
shade  them. 

I  halted  my  mule  on  the  highest  ridge  of  the  great 
sweep  of  down,  from  which  first,  many  months  before,  I 
had  seen,  far  away  to  northward,  Sergoit  summit  stand 
out  pink  in  the  evening  light. 

Good-bye,  Sergoit!  What  changes  has  not  your  gray 
head  looked  down  on!  In  ages  long  ago  that  softly  out- 
lined purple  Elgon  that  now  faces  you  to  the  west  was 
pouring  forth  devastating  tides  of  lava  from  the  rocky 
lips  of  the  great  crater  that  this  evening  are  sharply  out- 
lined against  the  crimson  sky.  And  the  wide  plain,  almost 
to  your  base,  was  a  sea  of  fire. 

Then  the  tropic  rains  and  scorching  suns  did  their 
faithful  work,  till  the  land  grew  rich  and  green,  and  forests 
smoothed  away  the  harsh  wrinkles  that  Elgon  had  plowed 
on  the  face  of  the  country. 

Then  came  the  wild  life,  man's  and  beast's,  much 
of  it  almost  the  same  as  it  is  to-day.  Tribes  rose  and 
perished,  surged  forward,  fell  backward. 

Our  poor,  forgotten  Sarequa  built  the  stone  kraals 
that  lie  around  your  feet,  and  no  doubt  many  a  bloody 
fight  you  beheld,  before  the  attacking  spear  men  forced 
their  narrow  stone  entrances. 

Then  came  the  groaning  slave  gang,  toiling  along  its  bone- 
strewn  way  to  the  sea.  You  have  looked  down  on  it  all. 


GOOD-BYE  SERGOIT  259 

And  now  you  are  looking  on  another  change.  A 
new  mark  lies  on  the  face  of  the  level;  like  a  faint  straw- 
coloured  ribbon  it  winds  across  the  veldt.  It  is  the  track 
of  the  Boer's  wagon.  If  sefari  fires  are  lighted  here  and 
there  on  your  plateau,  the  fresh  grass  will  soon  cover  over 
the  small  gray  circles  where  they  burned  for  a  night,  and 
no  trace  of  them  remains.  But  that  faint  yellow  line  deepens 
and  widens  year  by  year.  Old  things  for  you  are  indeed 
passing  away.  You  have  looked  on  many  strange  old 
things,  and  seen  them  pass;  things  that  the  wisest  of  us 
know  nothing  of.  Would  you  could  tell  me  of  the  new! 

Across  the  thin  rising  vale  of  grass  fire  smoke,  I  now 
see  your  rocky  crown  but  dimly,  and  for  the  last  time.  And 
so,  Sergoit,  true  land  of  the  lion,  Kua  Heri.  Kua  Heri. 
Good  luck!  Good-bye! 


CHAPTER  XI 
FROM  GILGIL  TO  KENIA 

A  FEW  hours  after  the  head  of  the  sefari  has  turned 
north  from  little  Gilgil  station  you  are  among  the 
pretty  wooded  hills  that  gather  round  the  base  of  Gojito, 
13,000  feet  high. 

As  you  press  still  northward  the  splendid  Aberdare 
range  rises  abruptly  to  your  right  hand.  It  begins  with 
Kinan  Kop  (also  over  13,000  feet)  and  prolongs  itself  in 
fine  forest  ridges  that  slope  to  the  plain  at  the  northern 
end  of  Embellossett  swamp. 

Four  or  five  miles  after  leaving  the  railway,  the  trail 
crosses  a  plateau  that  commands  a  view  behind  and  beyond 
you  that  is  worth  remembering. 

Blue  Naivasha  Lake  lies  twenty  miles  to  the  southward, 
in  the  heart  of  the  great  Rift  Valley,  that  strange,  long 
crack  in  the  shrinking  earth  crust,  that  only  ends  far  to 
northward,  where  the  Jordan  Valley  falls  sharply  to  its 
Dead  Sea.  Beyond  the  lake  two  extinct  craters  cut  the 
sky  line,  Longanot  and  Suswa.  To  east  of  it  are  the  purple 
crests  of  the  Kikuyu  range.  To  westward  the  tumbled 
masses  of  the  Mau  across  which  we  made  our  way  to 
reach  Nzoia. 

As  we  marched  northward  all  the  beautiful  land  before 
us  looks  as  little  like  Africa  as  can  be  imagined.  Were 
it  not  for  the  striped  skin  of  a  zebra  showing  now  and 
then  as  we  mount  some  grassy  rise  or  descend  some  deep 
dell  with  running  water  at  its  foot,  we  might  fancy  our- 
selves among  the  Tennessee  mountains.  But  leave  the 
trail  a  short  way,  try  and  mount  these  great  purple  ridges 

260 


1.  Naivasha  Lake 

2.  Nzoia  River.     Hippo  and  crocodile  are  in  the  pool 


FROM   GILGIL  TO   KENIA  261 

of  the  Aberdare,  and  you  soon  find  yourself  not  only  in 
Africa  but  in  the  face  of  obstructive  Africa,  the  real. 

These  great  mountain  ridges,  near  as  they  are  to  the 
one  highway  of  the  country,  the  Uganda  Railroad,  are 
practically  unknown,  almost  unexplored.  In  them  still 
herds  of  elephants  have  their  retreat  and  find  in  their 
impenetrable  bamboo  thickets  food  and  shelter  so  much 
to  their  taste,  that  they  seldom  visit  the  plain,  or  the  lower 
valleys  that  lead  to  it. 

Kinan  Kop  is  more  accessible,  its  woodlands  are  less 
rugged  and  compact  and  shambas  stud  it  here  and 
there.  Its  elephant  herds,  too,  have  been  searched  for 
big  ivory.  But  the  almost  perpendicular  ridges  of  this 
great  escarpment  that  now  rise  beyond  and  to  north 
of  you,  as  well  as  the  density  of  its  forest,  have  effect- 
ually barred  even  the  ivory  hunter's  progress:  he  has 
turned  away  discouraged  to  seek  a  more  penetrable 
country  where,  in  shorter  time,  he  can  hope  to  secure 
two  paying  "tuskers." 

This  is  surely  a  land  to  invite  to  leisurely  sefarying, 
and  not  by  any  means  a  country  to  hurry  through.  Flowers 
never  classified,  birds  not  even  named,  find  hiding  in  the 
sheltered  "chines"  that  slope  to  the  wide  marsh  land  of 
Embellossett;  and  weeks  might  be  passed  in  ascending 
the  unmapped  mountain  solitudes  from  which  they  come. 
There  is  game  enough  for  food,  and  wild  fowl  in  thousands 
breed  safely  in  the  marshes.  Here,  four  years  ago,  an 
inexperienced  English  subaltern  saw  a  fine  herd  of  kongoni 
and  rode  after  them  at  top  speed.  When  he  and  his  com- 
panion got  among  them  they  found  themselves  riding  the 
tail  of  a  band  of  twenty-four  lions. 

In  these  Aberdare  mountains  the  Guasi  Narok,  one 
of  the  chief  streams  that  make  the  Guasi  Nyiro  of  the 
north,  has  its  rise.  On  this  sefari  we  took  it  as  our  guide 
and  followed  it  down  through  the  Embellossett  swamp 


262  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

by  Laikipia  Boma  for  eighty  miles,  to  its  junction  with 
the  main  stream  of  that  beautiful  river. 

Two  short  marches  from  Gilgil  bring  you  to  the  foot 
of  the  Aberdare,  a  rocky  wall  fifteen  miles  long,  on  the 
south  end  2,000  feet  high,  on  the  north,  200.  Down  its 
front  tumble  fifteen  waterfalls,  some  taking  the  steep  at 
one  bound,  others  falling  sheer  a  hundred  feet  and  then 
in  cascades  often  hidden  by  dense  brushwood  come  flashing 
out  again  into  the  sun,  to  fall  tumbling  to  the  plain. 

That  grim  rocky  wall,  scored  with  little  mountain 
torrents  tossing  themselves  at  one  bound,  or  tumbling 
all  brokenly  down  its  great  steep,  is  one  of  the  finest  things 
in  East  Africa. 

The  level  country  beneath  spreads  out  into  swamp 
land,  and  in  its  long  wilderness  of  marsh  plants,  mud 
banks  and  secluded  lagoons,  at  the  highest  elevation  in 
the  world,  are  found  large  herds  of  hippo.  When  his 
haunt  is  near  cultivated  land  the  hippo  is  an  unmitigated 
nuisance.  He  will  devour  and  trample  down  in  one  night 
what  has  taken  an  unfortunate  native  months  of  labour. 
His  nocturnal  habits  make  him  difficult  to  destroy.  On 
the  Athi  and  Tana  rivers,  where  I  shot  them,  they  do 
great  harm.  The  river  hippo's  tusk  is  seldom  worth 
taking;  he  sinks  when  shot  and  so,  unless  you  have  the 
luck  to  find  him  on  a  sand  bank,  the  crocodiles  get  him. 

These  Embellossett  hippo,  however,  are  very  large 
indeed,  and  carry  fine  tusks.  They  are  so  well  off  in 
their  marshes  that  they  seldom  come  to  shore,  and  a 
collapsible  boat  would  be  necessary  in  order  to  do  anything 
with  them. 

While  we  camped  by  the  marsh  we  saw  no  signs  of 
the  big  beasts  landing.  I  saw  them  on  sunny  evenings, 
floating  lazily  along,  the  great  bulk  of  the  shoulder  making 
them  look  like  upturned  boats,  or  steadily  swimming  to 
keep  some  aquatic  appointment,  only  showing  above  the 


FROM  GILGIL  TO   KENIA  263 

water  the  upper  rim  of  a  broad  nostril  and  the  little  round 
covering  of  the  eyes;  a  truly  mighty  "submarine!"  Hippo 
are  not  supposed  to  be  dangerous  though  sometimes  they 
are,  as  was  proved  by  one  chasing  a  band  of  men  on  a 
public  road  within  two  miles  of  Mengo,  the  capital  of 
Uganda,  while  I  was  there.  The  ponderous  beast  actually 
ran  them  down  (and  the  Waganda  are  well  known  to  be 
very  fast  runners)  and  bit  one  man  completely  in  two. 
Next  morning  two  hundred  Waganda  surrounded  the 
little  swamp  where  the  furious  beast  lived,  and  from  which 
he  had  charged  forth  in  his  quite  unprovoked  attack.  Doctor 
Cook,  with  whom  I  was  staying  at  the  time,  took  me  to 
his  admirable  hospital  and  showed  me  the  results  of  that 
encounter.  One  man  had  his  thigh  shot  through,  another 
had  a  ball  in  his  shoulder,  a  third  had  a  great  piece  out 
of  his  buttock,  and  a  fourth  was  trampled  into  and  under 
the  mud  and  the  reeds  till  he  was  a  mass  of  wounds  and, 
besides,  was  nearly  suffocated.  They  killed  the  hippo. 

I  am  inclined  to  think  that,  during  low  water,  the 
Embellossett  hippo  is  not  so  hard  to  bring  to  bag  as  he 
was  at  the  time  we  waited  in  vain  for  him;  for  during  low 
water  his  supply  of  soft  eating  far  out  in  the  swamp  fails 
him,  and  he  has  to  content  himself  with  the  meadow  grass 
that,  as  soon  as  the  rains  stop,  begins  to  grow  luxuriantly 
all  along  the  rich  margin  of  the  marsh.  On  moonlight 
nights  he  will  often  take  a  long  walk  inland.  I  remember 
one  night  seeing  two  great  fellows  solemnly  walking  all 
round  our  circle  of  tents.  That  was  to  north  of  the  Nzoia, 
and  the  swamp  they  had  come  from  was  a  good  way  off. 

The  borders  of  Embellossett  are  extraordinarily  rich 
and  green,  as  they  are  watered  by  the  swamp  vapours 
as  well  as  numberless  rivulets  from  the  hills.  A  deep 
lush  growth  of  white  clover  spreads  up  to  the  very  feet 
of  the  cliffs  and  upon  this  the  bush-buck  love  dearly  to 
feed.  Very  early  in  the  morning  and  just  again  before 


264  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

dark,  this  fine,  shy  buck  comes  down  out  of  the  upper 
thickets,  and  ventures  into  the  green  glades  that  everywhere 
border  these  pretty  mountain  brooks.  I  counted  no  less 
than  sixteen  bush-buck  during  one  short  morning's  walk. 
They  were  unharmed  by  me  as  I  had  already  secured 
good  heads  on  the  Nzoia. 

There  is  one  drawback  to  the  foot  of  the  Aberdare  as 
a  hunting  ground,  it  is  generally  bitterly  cold  there.  The 
mountain  winds  seem  to  be  drawn  down  along  the  sharp 
edges  of  its  ramparts,  and  the  shivering  sefaris  always  call 
it  "Ber&a"  (cold)  camp.  The  equatorial  line  here  crosses 
the  swamp  and  it  is  a  strange  experience  to  wrap  yourself 
in  the  heaviest  overcoat  you  possess  and  seat  yourself  by 
a  roaring  fire,  exactly  under  the  Equator! 

One  of  the  chief  charms  of  Embellossett  is  the  bird 
life  that  everywhere  within  it  breeds  and  lives  quite 
undisturbed.  Here  above  all  other  places  can  the  naturalist 
study  the  aquatic  birds  of  the  continent.  In  vast  numbers 
and  in  great  variety  they  are  here.  I  used  to  take  my 
glasses  and  sit  by  the  water's  edge  in  the  evening,  while 
flocks  innumerable,  dabbling,  diving,  swimming,  would 
come  before  me.  Some  parent  birds  were  just  guiding 
their  little  downy  balls  of  fluff  out  of  the  nests,  for  a  first 
swim;  others  led  forth  broods  almost  fledged,  none  seemed 
afraid  and  this  I  think  is  remarkable. 

When  the  chase  of  hippo  proved  hopeless,  I  watched 
the  water  fowl  a  great  deal.  Not  once  in  a  long  afternoon 
could  I  catch  any  sight  of  so  much  as  one  bird  of  prey, 
no  eagle  or  hawk  disturbed  the  mother  birds  as  boldly  into 
the  open  water  they  led  their  countless  broods.  Land  life 
has  many  an  enemy,  water  life  seemed  there  to  have  none. 

Beyond  Embellossett  we  enter  Massai  land,  where 
till  three  years  ago  no  one  might  come.  It  says  much, 
surely,  for  English  influence  —  it  is  scarcely  fair  to  call 
it  rule  (for  the  civil  and  military  officials  are  a  mere  hand- 


FROM  GILGIL  TO  KENIA  265 

ful)  —  that  you  can  travel  unarmed,  if  you  wish,  over 
every  square  mile  of  Massai  land.  From  the  natives 
you  will  receive  nothing  but  courtesy  and  yet  but  a  very 
little  while  ago  they  were  accounted  the  most  bloody  and 
intractible  savages  of  East  Africa! 

Here  the  rhino  alone  occasionally  resents  your  intrus- 
ion. Once  in  a  dozen  times,  perhaps,  he  puts  your  sefari 
to  rout,  on  the  other  eleven  times  he  rushes  snorting  away. 

It  is  hard  to  realize  that  much  of  the  country  we  were 
about  to  hunt,  particularly  that  lying  beyond  the  Laikipia 
Boma  and  across  the  Guasi  Nyiro,  had  until  two  years 
ago  only  been  visited  by  a  very  few  white  men,  and  to 
visit  it  then  they  risked  their  lives. 

Where  else  in  all  the  world  within  six  weeks  of  London 
could  a  country  so  new,  so  strange,  so  beautiful  be  found  ? 

But  she  offers  more  than  strangeness  and  beauty  to 
men  like  myself,  tired  and  no  longer  young.  She  offers 
more  freely,  more  certainly  than  any  land  I  know,  the  untold 
boon  of  reasonable  exercise  with  quietness  and  rest. 

Day  after  day  as  you  travel  slowly  from  stream  to 
stream,  from  valley  to  table  land  and  then  down  to  wood 
and  stream  again,  always  greeted  and  interested  by  some 
new  experience,  some  bit  of  knowledge  that  comes  as 
it  were  leisurely  to  welcome  you;  riding  along  five  miles 
or  twenty  as  the  fancy  takes  you,  watching  your  little 
army  crawl  like  a  long,  brown  snake  across  the  veldt  as  you 
stand  on  some  higher  ground  above  them.  The  peace 
and  independence  of  it  all  slowly  but  surely  sinks  into 
you;  you  are  at  last  centuries,  generations,  away  from 
that  torrent  life  in  which  you  lately  swam  and  in  which 
you  have  worn  out  your  strength  in  swimming -- Life 
"with  its  sick  hurry  and  disappointed  aim,"  as  Matthew 
Arnold  describes  it,  has  faded  very  far  away;  you  drink 
it  all  in  and  feel  something  within  you  making,  if  not  for 
Shakespeare's  "Sea  change,"  yet  still  none  the  less  for 


266  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

a  change  into  something  strange  and  new.  That  smooth- 
limbed  Wanyamwazi  who  saunters  off  to  get  wood  for 
your  night  fire  knows  he  has  done  his  day's  stint.  Once 
that  is  finished,  this  wood-carrying  business  is  a  leisurely 
matter  and  so  with  beautiful  carriage  of  head  and  shoulder 
he  strolls  along,  restfulness  in  every  movement  of  him; 
to  hurry  him  would  be  an  outrage.  Before  the  quickly 
fading  twilight  has  vanished,  he  will  come  as  gracefully, 
as  leisurely  back,  poising  on  broad  shoulder  a  mighty  log 
of  the  very  best  burning  wood  in  the  world;  and  this 
should  go  far  to  convince  even  American  restlessness  that 
in  this  old  new  land,  at  least,  efficiency  and  leisure  are 
not  incompatible.  The  African  wilderness  is  very  restful 
to  the  over-tired  man. 

At  the  northern  end  of  the  swamp  your  trail  bears 
away  from  the  river  for  a  few  miles,  and  you  will  most 
probably  next  camp  on  its  banks  at  Laikipia  Boma. 

Here  the  Guasi  Narok  runs  strong  and  clear  till  it 
enters,  just  below  the  Boma,  one  of  the  finest  swamps 
to  be  seen  anywhere  in  B.  E.  A.  I  use  the  word  fine  with 
a  purpose,  for  swamps  usually  are  in  no  way  beautiful, 
in  this  or  other  countries.  But  the  borders  of  this  great 
Papyrus  garden  have  a  distinct  beauty  of  their  own.  The 
ground  in  Africa  is  often  hard,  far  harder  than  any  earth 
I  have  seen.  Even  after  rain  there  are  large  tracts,  not 
by  any  means  stony,  where  the  earth  itself  is  so  compressed 
that  a  mule's  hoofmark  would  easily  escape  an  untrained 
eye.  And  a  two-ton  rhino  can  pass  and  leave  only  a 
spoor  that  takes  pains  and  skill  to  follow  at  all.  Well, 
the  soil  round  this  great  fourteen-mile  swamp  that  swallows 
up  for  that  distance  the  Guasi  Narok,  has  this  African 
property.  On  it  springs  grass  soft,  green  and  level  as 
can  be  seen  anywhere,  but  as  you  ride  over  it  you  can 
with  difficulty  make  out  even  the  heavy  four-toe  foot- 
marks of  the  great  hippos  whose  nightly  browsing  keeps 


FROM   GILGIL  TO   KENIA  267 

the  turf  as  smooth  as  a  cricket  crease.  So  the  swamp's 
border  is  a  beautiful  thing,  an  almost  level  sweep  of  turf 
that  is  ever  green,  which  with  a  very  gradual  slope  goes 
down  to  meet  the  solid  high  upstanding  wall  of  impenetrable 
Papyrus.  Impenetrable  that  wall  is,  even  to  the  vast 
bulk  of  the  elephant,  who  will  turn  aside  and  make  no 
effort  to  penetrate  it  or  to  do  more  than  bathe  at  its  borders. 
The  hippo  alone,  heavy  and  short-legged,  succeeds  in 
forcing  a  path  to  its  dark  solitudes.  There  is  his  safe 
retreat  and  home. 

The  country  around  abounds  in  game,  but  wrater  is 
scarce.  So  this  green  rich  water  meadow  is  cropped  by  the 
very  best  of  nature's  mowing  machines  which,  moreover,  as 
it  passes  nightly  over  it,  except  in  a  few  soft  places,  leaves 
no  mark  of  passing  hoof  to  cut  or  roughen  the  level  green. 

Here  flowers  grow  abundantly  and  seem  to  bloom  as 
they  do  in  favourable  localities,  the  whole  year  round. 
Primrose-coloured  sweet  little  single  things,  thick  low- 
lying  patches  of  African  "  for-get-me-not,"  bunches  of 
purple  salvia,  and  many  another.  Here,  when  now  and 
again  the  flowing  water  has  worn  a  channel  round  the  foot 
of  the  papyri  wall,  and  for  a  little  space  the  brown  stream 
widens  out  in  the  sunlight,  beds  of  purple  water  lilies 
are  spread,  and  the  shy  water  birds  swim  and  feed.  The 
beautiful  white  egret  and  lesser  egret  are  found  here. 
Why  they  and  all  birds  (excepting  the  wild  fowl  on 
Embellossett)  are  so  wary  I  have  no  idea.  It  may  be 
that  the  natives  have  hunted  them  for  food  or  feathers 
long  before  the  white  man  came.  Whatever  the  reason 
is,  the  birds,  excepting  partridge,  quail  and  snipe  are 
strangely  wild. 

In  the  evening  you  can  hear  as  you  stroll  quietly  round 
the  swamp's  edges 

"The  river  horse  as  he  crushed  the  reeds 
Beside  some  hidden  stream," 


268  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

&s  Longfellow  very  accurately  wrote  in  his  New  England 
study;  and  very  completely  here  does  the  swamp  swallow 
•and  hide  the  strong  stream.  Here  too  the  Grant,  the 
Tommy  and  the  impala  come  down  to  drink,  and  here 
nightly  the  lion's  deep  hunting  call  sounds.  About  once 
a  year  elephants  appear  on  its  borders.  Most  probably 
these  come  from  blue  Mount  Kinan  Kop  some  fifty  miles 
away,  for  Kinan  Kop  still  shelters  many  bands  of  elephant 
:among  its  bamboo  forests  and,  were  it  not  set  over  against 
Kenia,  would  be  a  mountain  worth  coming  far  to  see. 

I  have  written  elsewhere  of  Mr.  Stauffacher's  mission 
'work.  His  little  mission  house  stands  on  a  rocky  knoll 
by  the  swamp  border,  and  his  garden  occupies  a  little 
corner  of  its  green  fringe.  He  has  well  tested  the  valuable 
properties  of  this  hard  damp,  rich  soil,  as  its  roses  and 
vegetables  prove,  and  here  with  the  help,  most  readily 
given,  of  the  civil  officer,  Mr.  H.  B.  Partington,  he  intends 
to  carry  out  a  modest  scheme  of  irrigation  which  should  be 
both  easy  and  inexpensive  to  accomplish,  and  would  give 
some  practical  evidence  to  the  wandering  Massai  of  the 
•productiveness  of  their  land.  One  irrigation  ditch,  taking 
the  water  from  the  river,  just  before  it  enters  the  swamp, 
would  irrigate  hundreds  of  acres  of  as  rich  land  as  can  be 
found  anywhere.  And  since  the  Guasi  Narok  is  fed 
almost  entirely  by  mountain  springs  its  flow  can  be  counted 
on.  Mr.  Stauffacher  also  mentioned  to  me  another 
scheme  which  this  mission  cherishes.  That  is  to  establish 
•a  sanatorium  on  the  shoulder  of  Kinan  Kop.  The 
mountain  is  very  accessible,  and  many  spacious  plateau 
:and  slopes  are  to  be  found  situated  well  above  the  frost 
line.  Water  will  sometimes  freeze  as  much  as  an  inch 
at  night.  The  country  below  is  (for  Africa)  densely 
inhabited  and  well  cultivated.  Food  supplies  are  abundant 
and  the  mountain  springs  are  clear  and  cold  as  mountan 
springs  should  be.  I  cannot  fancy  any  place  that  would 


FROM   GILGIL  TO   KENIA  269 

be  likely  to  benefit  the  over-tired  and  fever-smitten  people 
of  the  Protectorate  more  than  this.  Malarial  fevers  are 
not  as  deadly  as  they  were  a  few  years  ago  but  even  now 
valuable  lives  are  often  lost  because  hard-worked  men 
have  had  no  time  to  look  out  such  a  place  for  themselves, 
or  because  when  fever  has  prostrated  them,  they  have 
neither  means  nor  energy  to  transport  themselves  to  such 
a  mountain  climate. 

If  comfortable  housing,  good  nursing  and  carefully 
prepared  food,  at  an  altitude  of  say  10,000  feet,  could  be 
had  quickly  and  at  reasonable  cost,  the  benefit  to  all  East 
Africa  would  be  immense.  It  is  the  recurring  attack  of 
fever  that  eats  away  the  life  and  energy  of  men  often  inval- 
uable to  the  country.  These  are  the  very  men  who  stand- 
to  their  job,  beat  down  the  poison  with  quinine,  and  wait 
and  wait  for  the  far-off  home  going,  that  will  "surely  set 
everything  right."  So  it  would  if  it  came  soon  enough, 
but  when  it  does  come  it  comes  often  too  late.  Nothing, 
not  even  a  sea  voyage,  kills  African  malaria  like  real  moun- 
tain air.  Mr.  S.  has  been  all  over  Kinan  Kop  and  describes* 
it  as  most  beautiful. 

Mr.  S.'s  little  stone  mission  house  which  he  built  with 
his  own  hands,  stands  on  a  knoll,  a  third  of  a  mile  from 
the  water.  We  were  camped  at  Boma  less  than  two  miles 
away,  and  went  over  there  one  afternoon  for  tea.  He  had 
a  curious  story  to  tell  us  of  a  leopard. 

Two  nights  before  their  little  child,  only  five  weeks 
old,  had  cried  a  good  deal;  and  that  his  wife  might  get 
sleep  he  took  it  to  the  next  room  and  tried  to  hush  it.  He 
thought  he  heard  a  noise  outside  and  went  to  the  window. 
On  looking  out  into  the  darkness  —  there  was  no  moon  — • 
right  before  him,  not  two  feet  away,  was  a  leopard's  head, 
the  eyes  looking  straight  into  his  own,  while  the  forepaws 
rested  on  the  window-ledge. 

He  had  actually  time  to  go  into  the  next  room,  fetch 


270  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

his  rifle  and  shoot  it  dead,  for  the  beast  did  not  seem  in 
the  least  scared  and  waited  for  him.  I  think  this  was 
the  same  leopard  that  had  thoroughly  frightened  the  little 
native  bazaar  a  few  days  before.  He  had  broken  two 
windows,  one  the  postmaster's,  and  the  other  the  district 
commissioner's.  In  both  cases  if  he  had  not  been  fired 
at  he  would  no  doubt  have  come  in.  Had  Mr.  S.  not 
shot  him  there  would  soon  have  been  a  man-eating  leopard 
at  Laikipia. 

Man-eating  leopards  are  not  unknown  hereabouts;  one 
of  the  best  and  bravest  of  the  Church  Missionary  Society's 
men,  Mr.  McGregor,  was  so  mauled  by  one  of  them,  some 
years  ago,  that  for  a  long  time  he  hung  between  life  and 
death. 

This  beast  had  carried  off  several  children  from  one  of 
the  Kikuyu  villages  which  it  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting. 
Emboldened  by  success  it  next  broke  into  a  hut  and  seized 
a  woman.  Mr.  McG.  happened  to  be  there,  and  hearing 
her  cries,  rushed  out  into  the  darkness  after  the  beast.  He 
is  a  good  shot,  and  carries  a  45-90  Winchester.  He  came 
upon  the  leopard  round  the  corner  of  a  hut,  and  managed 
by  a  flambeau's  light,  to  shoot  it  through  the  body;  but 
it  sprang  on  him  and  tore  a  large  part  of  his  scalp  away, 
and  so  clawed  and  mauled  his  shoulder  and  left  arm  that 
they  are  to-day  almost  useless  to  him.  He  told  me  that 
he  lay  unattended  (missionaries  were  few  and  far  between 
then)  in  that  village,  for  almost  six  months. 

Lions  in  this  neighbourhood  have  a  bad  reputation 
and  are  not  like  those  on  the  Nzoia,  which  are  treated,  by 
the  almost  unarmed  N'dorobo  of  that  plateau,  with  con- 
tempt. The  N'dorobo  are  very  numerous  on  the  Nzoia, 
yet  they  seem  scarcely  ever  to  come  to  an  encounter  with 
the  packs  of  lions  that  hunt  over  the  country.  They  sleep 
in  twos  and  threes  under  any  convenient  rock  or  thorn 
tree,  light  their  tiny  fires,  hang  up  their  meat  on  the  brush 


FROM  GILGIL  TO   KENIA  271 

above  their  heads  and  go  to  sleep  without  watch  or  guard. 
So  far  as  I  could  learn  they  are  scarcely  ever  molested.  I 
did  hear  of  one  boy  on  the  Nzoia  dragged  from  such  a  fire 
by  his  leg,  but  in  that  case  the  leopard  was  the  aggressor. 
Here,  however,  the  lions  are  very  bold,  though  not  nearly 
as  numerous.  Last  night  two  of  them  united  in  an  attack 
on  a  very  well  fenced  munyata  (I  examined  the  thick  thorn 
fence;  it  was  seemingly  impenetrable  and  quite  eight  feet 
high).  They  leaped  this  high  strong  thorn  barrier,  that 
the  Massai  had  carefully  built  to  protect  themselves  and 
their  prized  cattle,  and  landing  in  the  dense  pack  of  beasts 
that  are  always  crowded  for  the  night  within  the  circle  of 
wattle  huts,  drove  the  herd  in  wild  panic  against  the  thorn 
barrier  that  blocks  the  kraal  entrance.  Through  this 
the  cattle  burst  and  then,  in  spite  of  spears  and  firebrands, 
the  lions  pulled  down  two  fine  cows.  The  Massai  drove 
them  from  the  one  that  lay  a  few  yards  from  their  kraal, 
but  the  second  the  lions  dragged  two  or  three  hundred 
yards  into  the  grass  and  devoured  at  leisure.  The  necks 
of  the  cows  were  broken. 

By  our  camp  of  yesterday,  the  men  pointed  out  to  me 
the  grave  of  one  of  their  fellow-porters  who  was  taken 
from  his  tent  when  they  were  on  sefari  here  a  year  ago. 
They  drove  the  lion  off  and  many  shots  were  fired  at  him, 
but  in  the  pitchy  darkness  he  was  not  hit;  his  victim  died 
almost  at  once.  Strangely  enough  when  only  three  months 
afterward  they  were  camped  at  the  same  spot,  another  boy 
was  seized,  but  he  somehow  managed  to  free  himself, 
and  escaped  with  slight  hurts.  The  lion  also  escaped. 

There  is  little  game  in  this  part  of  the  country  (I 
was  camped  twenty  miles  back  from  the  swamp  when 
writing)  and  this  is  probably  the  reason  of  their  exceeding 
boldness.  Buffalo  there  are,  but  then  these  can  take  good 
care  of  themselves,  and  lion  seem  to  leave  them  alone. 

The  Massai  spear,  seven  feet  long,  looks,  and  indeed 


272  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

is,  a  formidable  weapon.  With  it  they  do  kill  lions.  To 
this  fact  the  fine  lion  head-dresses  worn  by  the  warriors 
are  quite  sufficient  proof.  But  since  the  white  man  has 
taken  over  the  country,  the  Massai  seem  to  prefer  leaving 
lion  killing  to  him,  and  the  coveted  head-gear  is  generally 
an  old  one,  and  not  worn  nearly  as  commonly  as  heretofore. 
One  of  the  government  officers  stationed  among  the  Nandi 
tells  me  that  these  natives  still  face  the  lion  resolutely  in 
defence  of  their  flocks;  and  not  rarely  skins  are  brought 
in  of  spear-killed  lions.  Our  Somali  say  that  before  the 
British  occupation  of  Somali  land,  they  had  in  self-defence 
to  combine  to  kill  a  lion,  when  once  he  had  tasted  human 
flesh.  That  as  soon  as  such  a  beast  appeared  in  a  neighbour- 
hood, all  the  men  were  commandeered  by  the  chiefs  and 
that  on  horseback,  armed  with  spears,  they  hunted  it  down, 
be  the  cost  what  it  might;  otherwise  the  villages  would 
have  been  uninhabitable.  They  added,  however,  that 
since  the  white  man  came  lions  are  much  fewer.  All 
over  the  Guasi  Nyiro  country  lions  can  be  found,  but  when 
the  white  farmer,  and  more  especially  the  white  herdsman, 
comes  in  they  soon  disappear,  for  he  very  properly  poisons 
them.  It  is  so  in  every  wild  land.  As  soon  as  the  little 
mountain  streams  of  our  own  Rockies  were  used  for 
irrigation,  and  the  mountain  slopes  were  chosen  as  pasturage 
for  small,  well  watched  herds  of  valuable  beef  cattle,  the 
grizzly  disappeared,  and  with  him  the'  gray  timber  wolf. 
By  the  same  ignoble  means  the  lion  is  doomed  to  pass. 

Along  the  banks  of  the  Guasi  Narok,  especially  on 
the  northern  left  hand  bank,  the  going  is  stony.  Thorny 
scattered  scrub  comes  down  to  the  river's  edge,  yet  we 
found  some  delightful  camping  places  where  the  grass 
was  green,  and  where  wide-spreading  thorn  trees  threw 
a  grateful  shade.  The  river  is  full  of  fish  and  its  water 
deliciously  clear  and  cool.  To  find  such  a  stream  is  so 
rare  in  Africa  that  no  camp  near  it  can  be  a  poor  one. 


FROM  GILGIL  TO   KENIA  273 

Rough  as  the  country  is  on  the  northern  bank,  it  teems 
with  game.  Very  fine  impala  are  plentiful.  Large  flocks 
of  Grant  and  Tommy  feed  on  the  more  open  country  across 
the  river  to  the  south,  and  eland  were  quite  plentiful, 
some  carrying  good  horns. 

Three  miles  back  from  the  river,  the  bush  slopes  sharply 
up  to  a  wide  table-land.  I  saw  oryx,  eland  and  rhino  as 
well  as  two  lions  and  a  leopard  all  on  one  morning.  The 
oryx  and  rhino  I  did  not  want  —  and  I  needed  a  pony 
which  I  did  not  then  have,  to  get  near  either  of  the  other 
animals. 

At  the  junction  of  the  Guasi  Narok  (down  which  we 
had  been  marching  ever  since  we  came  to  the  Embellossett 
Swamp)  and  the  Guasi  Nyiro  we  made  permanent  camp 
for  several  days.  This  is  an  excellent  place  to  establish 
a  hunting  camp,  and  as  you  move  farther  north  toward 
the  mountain,  a  base  camp  from  which  to  supply  the 
sefari. 

On  the  Guasi  Narok,  fifteen  miles  above  the  junction, 
I  shot  an  aard  wolf  and  saw  two  others.  This  is  an  ex- 
ceedingly rare  animal  in  the  Protectorate. 

Several  kinds  of  partridges  and  frankolin  are  common 
along  the  river  banks.  One  little  brown  partridge  with  a 
sharp  spur,  which  I  have  seen  nowhere  else,  is  the  best 
eating  bird  I  found  in  Africa,  except  the  snipe,  quail  and 
lesser  bustard. 

The  morning  star  burns  gloriously  in  the  east  as  I 
stand  at  the  front  door.  There  are  no  signs  as  yet  of 
daylight,  but  you  can  smell  the  day,  and  the  earliest  birds 
are  beginning  to  call  and  twitter.  Presently  the  blue 
black  of  the  eastern  horizon  takes  a  tinge  of  clear  gray 
which  changes  almost  suddenly  into  a  low-lying  band  of 
dull  red;  in  a  moment  this  becomes  first  crimson,  then 
golden,  and  then  between  the  two  great  mountains,  over 
the  dark  purple  plain  that  divides  them,  bursts  the  sun. 


274  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

On  the  one  hand  are  the  forest-clothed  slopes  of  Kinan  Kop, 
no  insignificant  mountain,  but  dwarfed  by  the  solitary 
giant  opposite  it,  whose  summit  rises  rocky  and  snow- 
crowned  to  18,600  feet.  There  are  many  beautiful  things 
to  see  in  this  wild  land,  but  the  one  thing  unsurpassably 
beautiful  is  the  brief  pageant  of  the  African  sunrise.  To 
tell  the  truth,  getting  up  before  the  morning  is  not  at  first 
an  easy  or  pleasant  thing  to  do,  but  to  make  good  marching 
or  to  enjoy  good  sport  it  should  be  done,  and  done  reg- 
ularly; and  soon  you  find  that  these  first  and  freshest 
hours,  nay  moments,  of  the  day  are  well  worth  the  effort 
they  cost. 

From  Mt.  Kenia's  broad  base  there  stretches  to  the 
east,  north  and  northwest  one  of  the  most  impressive  plains 
to  be  seen  anywhere.  A  large  part  of  it  is  Massai  Reserve 
but  sportsmen  can  obtain  permission  to  hunt  on  it  from 
Lieutenant  Governor  Jackson,  at  Nairobi,  who  issues 
all  hunting  permits.  Many  visit  the  country,  but  few 
do  more  than  camp  at  the  junction  of  the  Guasi  Nyiro  and 
Guasi  Narok.  The  river  should  be  followed  up  to  its 
very  sources,  on  the  slopes  of  Kenia  —  for  here  is  some 
of  the  finest  hunting  country  in  the  world. 

We  found  ourselves  at  this  central  camp  on  the  Guasi 
Nyiro,  in  the  very  middle  of  an  unusually  severe  wet  season, 
but  though  rain  in  these  parts  has  some  disadvantages, 
there  are  certain  solid  compensations  which  it  brings  with 
it.  Chief  among  these  must  be  reckoned  the  fact  that, 
though  we  were  in  the  Massai  country,  z.  *.,  the  cattle 
country,  the  very  original  source  and  breeding  place,  I 
am  certain  whence  must  have  come  Pharaoh's  famous 
plague  of  flies,  we  were  only  bothered,  and  not  as  I  had 
been  on  other  occasions,  driven  to  desperation  by  them. 
When  Massai  flies  are  really  bad  you  have  but  one  place 
where  you  can  enjoy  any  rest  at  all;  that  is  under  the 
mosquito  nets.  They  literally  blacken  the  table,  float, 


FROM   GILGIL  TO   KENIA  275 

freshly  drowned,  in  your  soup  and  coffee,  crawl  in  com- 
panies into  your  food,  nest  in  your  hair,  and  will  not  come 
out  until  killed,  crawl  up  your  nose  (and  not  even  furious 
smoking  will  prevent  them  attempting  to  do  this),  and 
cling  on  the  morsel  of  food  you  are  raising  to  your  mouth, 
while  driven  well-nigh  frantic,  you  use  your  fork  as  an  ex- 
temporized fly-whisk.  But  why  attempt  the  impossible  ? 
Their  numbers,  stickiness  and  persistence  cannot  be 
described;  mercifully  the  heavy  rains  banish  most  of 
them  at  last! 

Our  camping  ground  at  this  junction  was  a  little  oasis, 
in  the  very  middle  of  extensive,  gray  cactus  brush.  Taking 
fresh  life  from  the  rain,  it  was  as  green  as  an  English  lawn, 
and  the  bordering  scrub  rising  high  all  around,  we  had 
been  well  sheltered  from  the  heavy  storms  that  had  drenched 
the  land.  The  river  ran  within  a  few  yards  of  our  tents, 
and  its  banks  were  so  rocky,  its  bars  so  sandy  that  no 
mosquito  pest  forbade  our  pitching  within  the  sound  of 
its  waters:  it  is  generally  wise  to  camp  well  back  from 
a  stream.  The  little  waterfall  close  by  had  been  very 
pleasant  to  listen  to  both  by  night  and  day.  It  seemed 
now  to  have  added  a  deeper  bass  to  its  chorus  of  water 
music,  as  the  stream  ran  in  spate,  yellow  and  turbid  among 
its  enclosing  rocks.  There  was  another  little  green  prairie 
just  across  the  ford  from  our  camp,  also  shut  in  by  the 
dense  cactus  scrub;  and  in  the  evenings  you  would  see 
the  pretty  shy  gray  monkeys  come  out  to  play  and  feed. 
They  would  chase  each  other  round  and  round  its  circle, 
their  tails,  which  were  much  longer  than  their  bodies, 
carried  in  a  funny  stiff  half  hoop-like  curve  as  they  ran. 
Then  suddenly  one  of  them  would  espy  something  eatable, 
and  the  game  would  stop  while  he  sat  up  and  ate  it. 
Rushing  rivers  and  pleasant  waterfalls  are  rather  rare 
things  in  this  land  and  they  were  pleasant  to  look  on  and 
to  listen  to.  But  the  Guasi  Nyiro  is  a  real  mountain  river, 


276  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

rising  amid  hills  that  mount  to  a  height  of  over  10,000  feet 
above  the  sea  and  flowing  among  rocky  gorges  and  valleys 
for  scores  of  miles  before  it  brings  its  pure  waters  to  the 
slow,  muddy,  fever-haunted  Tana.  It  flows  right  around 
the  great  bases  of  Kenia  and  from  Kenia's  snows  and  dark, 
unknown  forests  takes  many  a  tributary  on  its  way. 

Mt.  Kenia  stands  all  alone  in  the  middle  of  a  vast  blue 
plain.  On  the  Nairobi  or  southern  side,  the  foot  hills 
of  Kikuyu,  richly  wooded,  break  somewhat  the  splendid 
upward  sweep  of  its  ascent.  Looked  at  from  the  south 
it  reminds  me  of  Etna,  as  you  see  it  from  Taormina. 
Though  Kenia's  crown,  even  from  that  side,  rises  far 
more  abruptly,  and  as  its  altitude  is  over  18,000  feet,  it 
has  a  far  larger  snow-field. 

From  where  I  now  was,  I  looked  toward  the  northern 
face,  grandly  precipitous  and  abrupt.  The  final  peak, 
an  unbroken  bastion  of  rock,  ribbed  and  crowned  with 
perpetual  snow,  looks  absolutely  inaccessible  to  the  foot 
of  man  from  this  side.  The  mountain  was  ascended 
some  few  years  ago,  after  a  desperate  struggle  of  three 
months.  The  party  was  well  equipped,  and  had  its  base 
camp  not  fifty  miles  from  the  southern  face.  They  cut 
their  way  through  swampy  jungle  and  densest  forest; 
when  these  were  conquered  the  chief  difficulties  of  actual 
climbing  were  overcome  but  the  porters  fell  ill  by  the  score 
and  many  died.  The  Meru,  a  then  unknown  tribe, 
murdered  many  more,  and  it  was  a  sadly  wrecked  sefari 
that  struggled  back  to  Fort  Hall.  The  mountain  looks 
as  though  when  once  the  forest  was  passed  there  would 
be  no  great  difficulty  in  reaching  the  peak  and  ascending 
it  from  the  side  on  which  this  party  made  the  attempt. 
But  on  the  northern  front,  and  up  this  absolutely  sheer 
wall  of  rock,  which  must  be  higher  far  than  the  final  rock 
precipice  of  the  Matterhorn,  no  unwinged  thing  will  ever 
mount. 


1.  Mt.  Kenia  from  the  South 

Altitude  19,000  feet.    Telephoto  taken  from  distance  of  90  miles  by  H.  Binks,  Nairobi,  B.  E.  A. 

2.  Mt.  Kenia  from  the  North 

First  photograph  ever  taken  from  this  side.     Telephoto  at  20  miles  range.     Copyright  by 

W.  McGregor  Ross 


FROM   GILGIL  TO   KENIA  277 

On  this  brilliant  morning  as  I  looked  across  the  level 
plain,  the  ascent  of  the  lower  part  of  the  mountain  looked 
easy  enough  and  I  feel  sure  that  if  from  this  northern  side 
an  attempt  to  penetrate  the  forest  girdle  were  made,  it 
would  be  found  that  the  woodland  and  jungle  belt  that 
offer  so  stubborn  a  resistance  on  the  other  side,  were  much 
narrower  and  easier  to  pass.  From  this  side  an  ascent 
has  never  been  attempted  for  as  I  said  before,  until  two 
years  ago  the  country  hereabout  was  very  dangerous.* 

Crevasses  and  bamboo  thickets  were  here  merged  in 
soft  dark  blue  mass.  Fleecy  trailing  clouds  were  still 
clinging  to  the  tree-tops,  as  if  unwilling  to  obey  the  upward 
call  of  the  sun.  As  the  sun  gained  power  and  these  fleecy 
veils  drifted  away,  Kenia,  in  all  her  radiant  beauty,  rose 
majestically  before  me.  Two  years  before,  for  a  full 
week,  evening  and  morning,  I  had  studied  her,  but  that 
was  from  the  other  side.  This  grand  new  mountain  I 
had  never  seen.  Not  one  summit  but  a  group  of  peaks 
with  fine  snow-field  and  tumbling  ice  fall  between  them. 
Sheer  from  the  rocky  base  below  they  rose,  sheer  as  a  wall 
for  more  than  2,000  feet,  one  bastion  mightier  than  his 
fellows  rising  high  above  them  all.  There  is  not  in  all 
North  America,  neither  in  Canada  nor  the  United  States  - 
I  speak  advisedly  for  I  know  the  whole  Rocky  Mountain 
chain  pretty  well  —  anything  equal  to  the  splendour  of 
the  summit  of  this  virgin  mountain  of  the  plain. 

Kilimanjaro  is  higher,  but  for  beauty  it  is  not  to  be 

*  When  I  returned  to  Nairobi  some  months  after  writing  these  notes  I  found  that  while  I  had  been 
camped  within  a  few  miles  of  the  forest  belt  on  the  northern  slopes  of  Kenia,  unable  to  move  my  sefari 
as  our  transport  had  broken  down  and  we  were  quite  out  of  food,  a  small  government  expedition, 
undertaken  by  the  forest  department,  had  actually  attempted  to  penetrate  the  forest  belt  from  this 
side.  The  estimate  I  had  formed  of  its  difficulties,  as  these  notes  show,  proved  to  be  quite  a  true 
one.  The  party  penetrated  the  magnificent  forest  region  with  little  difficulty.  They  then  encountered 
very  heavy  bamboo  thickets,  but  in  piercing  them  were  greatly  aided  by  the  elephant  paths,  and  these 
once  mastered,  a  comparatively  easy  ascent  to  the  base  of  the  great  final  peak  lay  open.  From  this 
northern  side  that  crowning  mass  of  rock,  snow  and  ice  seemed  quite  unscalable.  The  party  made 
a  complete  circuit  of  the  mountain,  travelling  well  above  the  forest  belt,  and  having  gained  some  useful 
knowledge  returned,  all  well,  to  Nairobi. 

Mr.  Wm.  McGregor  Ross  (Director  of  public  works,  E.  A.  P.)  took  many  admirable  photographi. 
One  of  these  is  here  reproduced. 


278  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

named  with  Kenia.  Such  beauty  thrills  one  and  I  wanted 
to  be  alone.  I  turned  aside  from  my  party,  and  rode  off 
to  a  red  granite  kopje,  climbed  up  it  and  sat  down. 

The  soft  clouds  thinned  out  and  parted,  slowly,  gently. 
The  misty  morning  light  played  on  rock  and  ice  and  snow. 
The  fleecy  veils  of  the  night  were  drawn  aside.  And 
upper  regions,  too  high  and  holy  for  poor  man  to  reach 
and  spoil,  stood  out  against  heaven's  blue  sky.  Words 
fail  me  utterly;  I  cannot  put  down  what  I  see,  but  Words- 
worth's lines  come  to  my  mind,  and  now  I  think  that  a 
little  better  than  ever  in  my  life  before,  I  understand  what 
he  felt  when  he  wrote  it.  "The  holy  time  is  quiet  as  a 
nun,  breathless  with  adoration." 

Our  path  was  a  plain  and  easy  one  to  follow,  though 
it  passed  at  first  through  the  densest  and  most  impenetrable 
cactus  thickets;  for  no  herdsman  takes  better  care  of  his 
cattle  than  does  the  Massai,  and  the  ways  by  which  he 
drives  them  from  pasture  to  pasture  are  kept  open  for 
their  use.  Along  one  of  these  we  rode. 

I  have  said  before  that  rivers  in  Africa  are  sullen  and 
sluggish  things,  bordered  generally  by  dense  jungle, 
approachable  only  here  and  there  where  the  wild  beasts 
have  chosen  their  drinking  place  or  their  ford.  But  this 
river  might  have  come  from  the  Wicklow  Mountains  or 
been  born  among  the  fells  of  Westmoreland.  It  rushed 
over  its  water-worn  stones,  and  leaped  down  the  gorge, 
as  any  old-country  salmon  stream  might;  only  the  smooth 
black  polished  boulders  had  an  unEnglish  look,  and  spelled 
Africa. 

Then  suddenly  it  would  widen  and  deepen  into  sullen 
pools,  and  the  current  would  creep  along  under  the  sweeping 
boughs  of  the  thorn  and  wild  fig  trees.  To  these  pools, 
in  spite  of  the  rapids  below  them,  somehow  or  other  the 
crocodile  had  made  its  way,  and  here  and  there  you  saw 
his  marks  on  boulder  and  sandbar. 


FROM  GILGIL  TO   KENIA  279 

As  the  sun  mounted  overhead,  and  the  warmth  pen- 
etrated the  tangle  overhanging  the  water,  shrubs  and 
flowers  filled  the  air  with  pungent,  aromatic  scent,  the 
smell  of  Africa's  rainy  season. 

Down  to  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  grew  an  impenetrable 
euphorbia  wood  that  clothed  for  miles  the  slopes  on  that 
side,  and  straight  out  of  its  gray-green  mass  rose  one 
of  those  precipitous  hills,  too  high  to  be  called  kopje  yet 
scarcely  a  mountain.  Up  its  rocky  sides  the  all-conquering 
jungle  had  won  its  way,  tearing  at  it,  as  it  were,  till  the  hill 
seemed  to  own  nothing  of  itself  but  its  crown,  one  splendid 
mass  of  red  granite,  which,  clear  and  bold  and  quite  bare 
of  any  shrub  or  greenery,  looked  full  at  the  rising  sun 
and  in  its  early  light  shone  a  rosy  red.  In  most  of  the 
woods  of  East  Africa  there  is  surprisingly  little  colour,  as 
there  is  surprisingly  little  flower  or  fruit;  everything  in 
the  vegetable  world  seems  on  the  defensive,  has  all  it  can 
do  to  live,  and  has  no  time  to  be  beautiful.  But  our  little 
river  seemed  to  have  won  for  the  gentler  things  some  space 
and  chance  to  twine  and  grow.  White  and  purple  con- 
volvuli  hung  from  the  wide-spread,  cedar-like  arms  of 
the  thorn  trees,  far  over  the  yellow  water,  and  swept  down 
nearly  to  its  surface.  As  they  swayed  in  the  morning  air 
more  beautiful  and  fragrant  wreathes  of  colour  one  could 
not  wish  to  see. 

Then  the  thorn  tree,  one  of  the  hundred  species  of 
thorny  mimosa  here,  was  partially  in  flower,  and  when 
the  mimosa  tree  flowers  there  is  always  the  tireless  African 
bee,  surely  one  of  the  most  cruelly  used  insects  in  the  world. 
He  has  no  winter  time  in  which  to  rest  and  recuperate 
but  toils  all  the  long  hot  year  around,  and  when  his  hardly 
won  store  is  discovered  by  the  keen-eyed  native,  aided  by 
the  honey  bird,  wood  smoke  does  too  quickly  its  deadly 
work,  and  grub,  drone  and  worker  all  perish  together. 

In  these  thorn  trees  hung  on  all  sides  N'dorobo  honey 


280  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

pots.  These  are  hollow  logs  of  wood  some  four  feet 
long,  and  ten  inches  or  a  foot  in  diameter.  A  hole  at  one 
end  admits  the  swarm.  Bees  seem  to  find  it  hard  to  secure 
a  safe  place  to  store  their  honey  in  any  part  of  the  country 
not  heavily  wooded,  and  so  the  poor  things  too  readily 
accept  the  deceptive  hospitality  provided  by  the  wild  man 
for  their  undoing.  In  they  go,  and  soon  the  rude  hive  is 
filled  with  rich  comb.  Twice  a  year  the  honey  lover 
comes,  smothers  the  lot,  and  hangs  again  in  the  same  tree 
the  hollow  log.  I  counted  seven  of  them  in  one  tree  that 
morning. 

The  thorn  tree  when  it  gains  any  size  is  beautiful  to 
look  upon.  The  sportsman  and  traveller,  for  all  its  prickly 
welcome,  owe  it  no  small  debt.  Its  sparse  shade  is  most 
welcome  by  day,  there  is  often  no  other,  and  its  hard  tough 
wood  makes  an  incomparably  good  fire  by  night;  no  wood 
that  I  have  seen  anywhere  burns  so  warmly  or  so  long.  No 
deluge  can  put  it  out,  and  last  but  not  least,  it  makes  a 
grand  cooking  fire.  It  has  another  charm,  viz.,  the  beautiful 
soft  golden  green  bark  that  covers  its  limbs  and  stem. 
The  feathery  flat  spreading  branches  do  not  shut  out  the 
sunshine,  and  when  after  drenching  rain  the  sun  comes 
out  the  graceful  lines  of  the  glossy  branches  are  most 
beautiful  to  look  upon. 

As  we  wound  along  the  hillsides,  and  climbed  up  and 
down  the  rocky  gorges  that  ran  to  the  river,  the  weird 
sound  of  the  sefari's  piping  came  from  the  rear.  How 
they  manage  to  keep  it  up  was  always  a  wonder  to  me.  Of 
pipers  we  had  two;  one  favoured  a  short  reed  pipe  from 
which  he  was  never  parted;  he  always  carried  it  in  one 
of  the  many  corners  of  the  bundle  of  rags  that  served  him 
for  a  coat.  The  other  produced  a  shriller  tone  from  a 
water-buck's  horn.  I  love  the  sound  of  that  rude  piping. 
Whence  it  comes,  that  sad  minor  tune,  no  one  can  tell. 
It  reminded  me  of  another  sunny  morning  when  I  sat  on 


FROM  GILGIL  TO   KENIA  281 

the  very  edge  of  the  great  cliff  that  overhangs  the  sea  at 
Taormina.  More  than  1,000  feet  below  wound  the  road, 
and  along  it,  a  mere  speck  showing  up  against  the  white 
dust,  marched  the  little  brown  piper  at  the  head  of  his 
goats,  playing  the  same  tune  no  doubt  that  his  forefathers 
had  marched  to  more  than  two  thousand  years  ago. 

The  banks  of  the  Guasi  Nyiro  are  far  from  the  classic 
ground  where  Carthage  and  Rome  strove  for  the  world's 
mastery.  No  Gods  ever  dreamed  of  piping  by  an  East 
African  stream.  Yet  perhaps  for  all  that  the  poor  thin 
little  minor  tune  with  which  my  black  porter  cheers  himself 
and  his  comrades  as  they  trudge  bravely  along  under  the 
noonday  sun,  has,  if  we  but  knew  it,  a  history  of  its  own. 
For  how  many  ages  has  its  monotonous  refrain  cheered 
the  monotonous  life  of  a  forgotten  race  ?  All  he  knows 
about  it,  anyway,  is  that  his  father  played  it  before  him, 
so  he  plays  on. 

"  Will  no  one  tell  me  what  he  sings  ? 

Perhaps  the  mournful  numbers  flow. 
From  old  forgotten  far-off  things, 
And  battles  long  ago." 

I  have  been  half  dreaming  as  I  ride,  and  now  I  notice 
that  the  sefari  has  closed  up  behind  me,  and  is  in  unusually 
close  formation.  The  reason  is  plain  to  see.  There  on 
the  soft  sand  again  and  again  appears  the  odd  three-toed 
foot  mark  of  the  rhino.  Every  now  and  then  the  cactus 
scrub  is  tossed  aside  and  torn,  stamped  and  battered  where 
he  rolled,  and  large  bushes  by  the  trail  side  half  uprooted, 
tell  of  his  evil  temper.  Several  have  passed  here  since  last 
night's  rain,  and  we  may  hear  his  snorting  squeaking  cry, 
and  know  his  sudden  vicious  rush,  too,  at  any  moment. 
That  is  the  reason  the  sefari  has  closed  up,  and  the  pipers 
have  stopped  their  piping. 

To  judge  by  his  action  the  rhino  is  nearly  always 
angry  with  something  or  somebody.  For  him  two  at  most 


282  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

is  company.  He  keeps  to  himself;  all  other  beasts  move 
out  of  his  way.  The  native  hates  him  and  fears  him 
more  than  he  does  any  other  animal,  far  more  than  the 
lion,  and  the  feeling  is  most  natural.  His  spear,  made  of 
wrought  iron,  with  its  keen  point  and  four-foot  blade,  he 
can  drive  through  and  through  a  lion,  but  it  is  a  poor  weapon 
when  matched  against  this  monster's  bulk  and  horny  hide. 
He  lets  the  lion  alone  and  the  lion  avoids  him,  but  no  man 
can  tell  what  an  aroused  rhino  will  do.  He  is  so  blind 
that  he  cannot  see  anything  at  a  greater  distance  than 
fifty  yards.  When  he  sees  it  he  seems  to  act  as  the  fancy 
takes  him.  If  it  is  the  long  line  of  a  marching  sefari, 
sometimes  he  rushes  off  and  far  as  the  eye  can  follow 
never  abates  his  pace.  Sometimes  he  rushes  cm,  and  then 
down  in  a  trice  go  the  loads,  some  pretty  strong  and  some 
very  breakable,  while  with  extraordinary  activity,  the 
sefari  takes  to  the  trees,  dodges  behind  ant  hills,  and  under- 
goes in  short  a  very  complete  demoralization  and 
disbandment. 

One  day  on  a  former  trip  such  a  rhino,  accompanied 
by  her  calf,  put  my  men  up  trees  and  danced  on  some  of 
my  loads.  To-day,  however,  we  were  lucky  and  came 
through  unmolested.  And  so  the  sunny  morning  passed 
away  and  we  neared  our  camping  ground.  As  we  did 
so  pleasant  sights  and  sounds  greeted  us.  Across  the 
river  was  a  munyata,  Massai  herds  were  grazing  near 
and  on  a  beautiful  bit  of  level  sward  by  the  river 
bank  a  dozen  or  more  black  totos  were  playing  one 
of  those  children's  games  which  are  the  same  the  wide 
world  over. 

As  I  stood  to  watch  them  I  noticed  in  the  sand  at  my 
feet  the  foot  marks  of  a  large  lion  who  came  there  to  drink 
after  his  kill  this  morning,  and  then,  for  reasons  best  known 
to  himself,  did  what  lions  seldom  do,  took  to  the  water  and 
swam  the  rapid  current.  There  were  the  tracks  in  the 


FROM   GILGIL  TO   KENIA  283 

soft  mud  across  the  stream,  where  he  had  landed.  Behind 
and  on  either  side  of  the  flocks  of  cattle  and  sheep,  armed 
with  spear  and  bow  and  arrow,  as  were  the  herdsmen 
of  4,000  years  ago,  the  black  herdsmen  stood  to  guard 
and  little  "totos"  and  at  least  equally  loved  cattle,  seemed 
safe  under  their  care. 


CHAPTER  XII 

SYCE'S  ADVENTURE 

I  THINK  all  who  have  travelled  much  on  sefari  will  agree 
that  one  of  the  least  satisfactory  individuals  in  it  is  the 
syce.  To  begin  with,  he  is  pretty  sure  to  know  nothing 
either  of  horses  or  mules,  and  these  are  of  course  his  one 
cause  for  being. 

Then  he  is  disposed  to  act  the  part  of  gentleman  of  leisure. 
He  has  an  easy  time  of  it,  for  he  has  no  burden  to  carry, 
except  it  may  be  a  water  bottle  or  a  spare  gun,  and  he  may 
kick  at  carrying  even  these;  and  when  the  sefari  is  hard 
pressed  and  trophies  have  somehow  to  be  brought  along,  he 
is  sure  to  demur  at  carrying  his  own  sleeping  mat  and 
"potio." 

Next  because  he  walks  behind  you  on  the  march  or  when 
hunting  and  generally  has  to  consort  with  the  gunboys,  he 
too  demands  "boots."  Now  boots  are  unfortunately 
a  time-honoured  perquisite  of  the  gunboy,  unfortunately, 
because  the  boots  are  dear  and  bad,  and  since  nothing  will 
induce  the  gunboy  to  keep  his  feet  clean,  he  often  seriously 
injures  those  members  of  his  just  because  he  insists  on 
looking  smart  after  his  own  idea.  The  syce,  in  short,  copies 
the  gunboy  in  everything  except  in  the  altogether  necessary 
virtue  of  standing  by  his  bwana  in  a  tight  place. 

My  syce,  Amesi,  alas,  is  no  exception  to  the  general  rule. 
If  he  has  to  knee  halter  his  mule  he  is  apt  to  cut  the  foreleg 
of  the  unfortunate  animal,  so  tightly  does  he  fasten  the  hide 
rope.  If  he  neglects  to  knee  halter  him  he  calmly  lets  him 
stray  or  take  the  back  track. 

Yesterday,  however,  he  displayed  unexpected  qualities  of 

284 


SYCE'S   ADVENTURE  285 

horsemanship.  The  day  began  badly  for  him.  He  brought  up 
my  mule  as  usual  and  stood  on  the  off  side  while  I  mounted. 
The  saddle  had  a  lumpy  look  about  it,  and  for  an  instant 
I  hesitated  to  mount.  It  was  well  I  did  so,  for  on  looking 
over  to  his  side  I  missed  my  off  stirrup.  Sure  enough,  he 
had  actually  saddled  the  mule  and  girthed  him  tight,  with 
the  off  stirrup  securely  fastened  down  on  the  unfortunate 
beast's  back,  under  the  seat  of  my  saddle! 

I  have  seen  a  mischievous  boy,  in  the  South,  put  a 
hickory  nut  under  the  saddle  of  a  skittish  Virginian  mare, 
and  when  the  rider,  a  good  one,  mounted  there  was  a  circus 
indeed.  I  don't  fancy  my  mule  could  have  emulated  that 
Virginian  horse  though  he  can  buck  reasonably  well  on 
occasions,  but  as  we  were  surrounded  by  tent  ropes  and 
all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  camp,  there  would  have  been  some 
grief  had  I  mounted.  However  the  danger  was  averted, 
the  syce  rebuked,  and  I  rode  off  from  camp. 

After  going  for  an  hour  or  so  we  cut  the  spoor  of  a  family 
of  lions  returning  from  the  night  hunt.  The  head  of  that 
family  was  plainly  a  very  big  one,  judging  by  his  "sign." 
It  had  poured  the  night  before,  so  tracking  was  possible 
even  on  the  hard  ground.  I  determined  to  follow  the  trail 
though  the  chance  of  getting  a  shot  was  small,  the  country 
being  quite  open  when  it  was  open;  and  densely,  imper- 
ivously  bushy  when  the  cactus  jungle  skirted  the  Quasi 
Nyiro. 

The  lions  made  their  usual  semi-circle  round  and  finally, 
as  I  feared  they  would,  led  me  into  the  great  belt  of  cactus 
scrub  that  bordered  the  river.  Here  all  manner  of  known 
and  unknown  vegetable  barriers  combined  to  bar  the  way; 
thorns  long  and  short,  creeping  trailers  thin  and  thick  and 
all  of  them  unbreakable.  Here  the  dark  places  in  the 
dense  thicket  were  tunnelled  by  heavy  beasts  forcing  their 
way  through.  Yet  these  tunnels  would  be  strung  across  by 
creepers  innumerable,  and  were  so  low  that  you  could  not 


286  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

stand  in  them,  but  had  to  stoop  and  bend  and  even  crawl 
to  make  any  progress.  Then  a  lighter  patch  of  jungle 
would  cheer  you  and  you  could  rest  for  a  few  moments  on 
an  ant  hill,  wipe  off  your  drenched  head  and  hat,  clean  your 
eye  glasses  and  begin  to  crawl  again.  I  am  leaving  syce 
all  this  time  some  hundreds  of  yards  outside  such  cover, 
feeding  his  mule  in  the  open.  The  lion  spoor  turned  in  and 
out  and  led  us  suddenly  on  to  the  fresh  track  of  a  herd  of 
buffalo.  We  had  not  got  much  farther,  when  close  to  us 
there  sounded  a  dozen  short  sharp  whistling  snorts  and  then 
a  commotion  quite  nerve-shaking  as  the  herd  of  great  beasts 
crashed  away.  I  should  have  said  that  in  this  dense  steam- 
ing tangle  there  was  no  wind;  little  puffs  of  light  air  came 
now  and  then,  not  enough  to  cool  you  but  evidently  quite 
enough  to  give  you  away.  This  experience  was  repeated 
twice  in  the  next  hour.  We  drew  within  a  few  yards  of  the 
buffalo,  when  the  same  stampede  would  occur.  Once  I 
almost  kicked  a  calf  that  rose  from  the  dense  tangle  right 
under  my  feet  and  then  we  paused  and  let  her  go  her  way; 
for  a  calf  means  a  cow,  and  a  cow  with  calf  will  charge 
quickly  and  charge  home,  and  no  charge  of  any  beast  that 
runs  is  more  determined  or  deadly.  Moreover,  this  cactus 
thicket  was  no  place  to  receive  a  charge  in. 

Somehow  we  succeeded,  by  no  plan  of  our  own,  to  work 
the  herd  toward  the  outskirts  of  the  wood,  when  they  broke 
cover  for  the  open.  You  could  tell  they  had  reached  the 
open  by  the  thunder  of  their  hoofs,  unaccompanied  by  the 
heavy  crashing  they  made  while  in  the  underbrush.  Now 
was  our  chance.  We  found  ourselves  near  the  edge.  My 
two  gun  bearers,  struggling  side  by  side,  tore  a  way  through 
the  few  intervening  yards  of  cover  that  shut  us  in.  It  was 
a  desperate  moment.  Pricked  and  torn,  I  was  outside, 
sitting  panting  on  the  ground,  my  .450  double  rifle  resting 
on  my  knees.  But  alas,  they  had  had  too  long  a  start,  so 
I  had  to  content  myself  with  the  sight,  and  it  was  a  splendid 


SYCE'S  ADVENTURE  287 

one,  of  fully  fifty  great  black  beasts  charging  in  column 
across  the  veldt  which  was  very  uneven  here,  some  400  yards 
away.  It  would  have  been  easy,  but  useless  and  cruel  to 
fire  into  that  plunging  line.  You  are  allowed  only  one 
buffalo  and  that  a  bull,  and  to  select  and  kill  at  that  distance 
would  have  been  impossible. 

Now  comes  in  syce's  adventure.  He  was,  as  I  have  said, 
standing  by  his  grazing  mule  some  five  hundred  yards  off, 
when  this  living  tornado  burst  from  the  wood.  He  and  his 
mule  took  in  the  situation  with  wonderful  promptness. 
He  was  on  that  mule's  back  with  an  ease  and  quickness 
that  no  one  would  have  credited  to  my  slow-going  syce, 
and  if  he  had  been  one  of  those  who  are  born  to  "witch  the 
world  with  deeds  of  noble  horsemanship  "  he  could  not  have 
ridden  faster  or  better.  The  mule  saw  what  was  coming, 
and  did  his  best  and  Amesi  splendidly  seconded  his  efforts. 
The  mule  took  the  road  be  knew,  the  road  to  camp,  and 
needed  little  whipping,  but  whipped  soundly  he  certainly 
was. 

When  I  got  back  in  the  evening  I  found  a  somewhat 
anxious  encampment.  Syce  stoutly  asserted  that  I  had  been 
tracking  ten  lions  when  suddenly  I  was  charged  by  a  whole 
herd  of  buffalo.  He  stood  his  ground,  he  said,  till  all  my 
men  gun  bearers  had  bolted  and  left  me.  Then  he  came 
to  camp  and  if  he  arrived  there  before  the  others  it  was  only 
because  the  mule  was  so  frightened  he  could  not  stop  it. 

Syce  had  scarcely  disappeared  and  the  great  dark  column 
of  jungle  beasts  with  him,  when  right  behind  where  I  stood, 
in  the  dense  fringe  of  thicket,  suddenly  there  arose  a  mighty 
hubbub  and  a  crashing  and  trampling  louder  and  nearer 
than  anything  we  had  yet  heard.  The  herd  had  somehow 
been  cut  in  two,  one-half  going  off  on  a  long  circular  wheel, 
to  return  as  it  proved,  -to  their  loved  cover  after  a  round 
of  a  couple  of  miles.  The  other  half  had  not  yet  emerged, 
but  getting  our  wind  rushed,  as  buffalo  sometimes  will,  in  a 


288  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

compact  and  overwhelming  mass  to  investigate  the  enemy. 
It  looked  for  a  moment  as  though  we  must  be  crushed  to 
pieces  under  that  thundering,  snorting,  whistling  charge. 
It  required  some  nerve  to  stand  one's  ground,  for  the  roar  of 
it  seemed  almost  on  top  of  me,  and  yet  I  could  see  nothing, 
absolutely  nothing,  but  swaying  limbs  of  trees  and  tossing 
brush.  When  about  twenty  yards  off,  suddenly,  as  it  arose, 
it  came  to  a  dead  stop.  Half  a  minute's  pause,  and  then 
another  smashing  retreat.  This  time  the  herd  seemed  to 
scatter  and  from  the  sound  I  could  tell  that  some  were  taking 
the  same  road  toward  the  open  as  the  forty  or  fifty  had, 
before  whose  onslaught  Syce  had  wisely  and  expeditiously 
retreated.  Now  came  my  chance  at  last  and  I  knew  it, 
for  they  must  cross  a  narrow  opening  if  they  followed  their 
leaders,  and  as  they  crossed  I  might  get  a  shot.  I  put  my 
best  or  rather  my  worst  leg  forward,  and  made  as  good  time 
as  I  could.  As  the  leader,  a  cow,  came  out  I  was  within 
one  hundred  and  fifty  or  one  hundred  and  seventy  yards. 
There  were  four  of  them,  the  last  a  fine  bull,  with  oh!  such 
splendid  horns.  He  let  me  see  their  width  for  one  instant 
as  he  half  turned  his  black,  fierce  head.  Had  he  but 
stopped  for  just  one  second  I  had  had  him,  but  as  my  fore- 
sight bore  on  his  shoulder  he  swerved  into  a  thicket  so  I 
could  only  swing  the  sight  of  my  .450  a  few  feet  ahead  as  I 
fired.  The  big  bullet  told  loudly  and  of  course  I  knew  I 
had  hit  him,  but  the  question  was,  where. 

Well,  my  gunboys  and  I  went  cautiously  up,  for  no  beast 
in  Africa  is  quite  so  deserving  of  care  as  a  wounded  buffalo. 
He  has  a  well-known  trick  of  turning  off  his  own  trail  at  a 
sharp  angle,  and  so  standing  (hitherto  of  course  by  the  dense 
brush)  within  a  few  feet  of  the  blood-marked  track  which 
savage  instinct  teaches  him  his  enemy,  be  he  man  or  beast, 
is  sure  to  follow.  As  the  hunter,  lion  or  man,  comes  along, 
his  charge  is  swift  and  most  deadly.  You  can  generally 
turn  a  rhino  by  a  bullet  in  the  head  or  shoulder,  no  matter 


SYCE'S  ADVENTURE  289 

how  fiercely  he  comes  on;  he  will  usually  swerve,  if  it  be  for 
only  a  few  feet,  and  pass  on  one  side.  So,  to,  generally  does 
the  elephant  who  seems  to  dread  a  repetition  of  bullet  shock, 
and  so  swerves  to  the  impact  of  the  modern  heavy  charge. 
Were  this  not  so  many  more  men  would  be  killed  by  elephant 
and  rhino  and  the  white  man  would  dread  the  rhino  charge 
more  than  the  native,  for  he  is  not  so  nimble  and  the  native 
has  a  holy  horror  of  the  ill-tempered  brute.  But  a  wounded 
buffalo  who  waits  for  his  enemy,  waits  because  he  knows 
he  is  in  a  corner  and  cannot  retreat,  or  if  it  is  a  cow,  because 
she  thinks  her  calf  is  in  danger;  nothing  but  death,  and 
sudden  death  too,  will  stop  that  incarnation  of  cunning  rage. 
A  man  was  killed  not  long  ago  in  East  Africa  by  a 
wounded  buffalo  in  this  way.  He  had  wounded  it  in  the 
morning,  often  when  the  herds  come  out  of  the  densest  wood- 
land to  feed  in  the  green  glades  that  run  up  into  the  forest. 
The  wounded  beast  had  rushed  off  into  cover  and  the  hunter, 
following  the  spoor,  had  tracked  it  the  best  part  of  the  day, 
and  finally  lost  the  trail.  At  length  he  gave  it  up  and  went 
on  with  his  hunting,  only  turning  back  to  camp  in  the  even- 
ing. Tired  of  carrying  his  heavy  rifle  he  gave  it  to  one  of  the 
gunboys  and  was  sauntering  some  few  yards  ahead  of  them, 
when  he  passed  near  the  place  where  he  had  lost  the  trail  in 
the  morning.  Close  to  that  trail  the  buffalo  had  been  stand- 
ing immovable  for  hours  and  as  he  passed,  for  the  moment 
unarmed,  it  was  upon  him  with  a  rush  and  in  a  few  moments 
all  was  over.  Knowing  well  the  need  of  caution,  I  therefore 
went  carefully  forward  with  my  men.  My  game  had  been 
shot  through  and  through.  There  was  blood  on  each  side 
of  the  spoor  and  from  the  height  of  the  blood  marks  on  the 
stained  grass  and  scrub,  it  was  evident  that  the  bullet  had 
taken  him  half  way  up. 

Every  one  tells  you  on  no  account  to  follow  up,  in  scrub, 
a  wounded  buffalo,  and  every  one  who  has,  after  months  of 
hoping  and  working,  sent  his  bullet  home  into  a  fine  bull, 


2QO  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

an  animal  that  to  my  mind  carries  the  finest  trophy  in  Africa, 
follows  it  up  as  a  matter  of  course.  So  we  followed  on  and 
on.  Alas,  I  have  no  triumphant  ending  to  tell  of.  The  day 
was  warm  and  in  the  bush  the  heat  was  stifling.  We  stooped, 
we  crawled,  now  and  then  straightening  up,  when  over- 
hanging cactus  and  clinging  thorns  permitted,  to  wipe  off 
the  sweat  and  go  on  again.  Twice  we  roused  him.  Twice 
we  found  where  he  had  lain  down,  and  there  were  blood 
spoor.  My  n|-pound  rifle  grew  very  heavy  and  my 
nerves  were  on  the  qui  vive  every  instant  of  the  time.  But 
the  dense  scrub  and  suffocating  day  were  against  us  and 
the  afternoon  torrent  came  down  and  blood  signs  were 
washed  out,  I  had  unwillingly  to  acknowledge  defeat.  But 
it  was  a  great  day,  and  I  would  not  forego  having  heard  that 
terrorizing  sound,  that  thunderous  rush  of  the  aroused  and 
stampeded  herd  at  a  few  yards'  distance  in  the  well-nigh 
impenetrable  jungle,  for  a  great  deal.  In  the  dark- forest  of 
the  Congo  the  hunter  of  future  years  may  for  many  a  day 
hear  it.  But  from  penetrable  Africe  this  mightiest  of  the 
wild  tribe  of  Bos  must  soon  perish.  In  Uganda  the  buffalo 
are  in  some  places  so  destructive  to  native  shambas  that  their 
extermination  is  demanded.  They  seem,  too  (though  all 
well-informed  men  are  not  as  yet  agreed  on  this  point)  to 
bring  in  their  train  the  dreaded  tsetse  fly,  one  of  the  worst 
of  all  African  scourges;  and  not  only  at  the  advent  of  the 
white  man  must  they  perish,  but  as  the  native  learns  to 
cultivate  the  land  they  must  go,  as  their  habit  of  night  feed- 
ing is  ruinous  to  the  cultivator. 

Some  time  after  I  had  written  these  notes  on  my  long 
hunt  after  a  wounded  buffalo  in  the  cactus  thickets  of  the 
Quasi  Nyiro,  a  fact  came  to  my  knowledge  which  largely 
accounted  for  my  failure  to  bag  that  fine  bull. 

My  Somali  gunbearer,  Dooda,  though  a  keen  hunter  and 
brave  man,  had  in  full  measure  the  usual  Somali's  fault  of 
overweening  conceit.  He  had  got  it  into  his  head  that  the 


,£,  %  '•  i^ 

.'  ^  ^»      *  ^~iM    -fc'dr 

**  •*<•"»    .    la     «? 


->, 


1.  Good  buffalo  head,  bones  14$  inches  across 

2.  Buffalo.     An  old  bull 


SYCE'S  ADVENTURE  291 

bullet  to  shoot  buffalo  with  was  the  solid,  not  the  soft  nose. 
Of  course  he  was  quite  wrong,  the  soft  nose  bullet  being 
much  the  deadlier  on  such  soft-skinned  game.  He  had  his 
orders  and  he  knew  them;  Kongoni  carried  as  second  gun- 
bearer  my  heavy  .450  and  Dooda  the  .350.  When  I  took  the 
latter,  Dooda  took  over  the  former,  Kongoni  handed  him 
the  rifle  charged  as  I  directed  it  to  be  and  he,  as  soon  as  he 
received  it,  took  out  quietly  the  soft  nose  bullets  that  were  in 
the  chamber  and  substituted  solids  for  them.  Thus  it 
came  about  that  contrary  to  my  intention,  I  fired  a  solid,  not 
a  soft  nose  bullet  into  my  fine  bull,  when  I  had  my  snap 
chance  at  him. 

I  thought  it  strange  at  the  time,  when  I  found  by  the 
blood  spoor  that  the  bullet  had  gone  quite  through,  and 
that  there  was  blood  on  both  sides  of  the  trail  that  this 
should  have  happened  --  as  a  soft  nose  bullet  should  never 
go  through  a  large  animal.  But  it  never  occurred  to  me  that 
one  of  my  men  would  dare  to  tamper  with  my  guns,  as  I 
had  had  both  of  them  for  a  long  time,  and  they  knew  well 
that  if  they  did  so  they  would  be  severely  punished.  When 
things  went  wrong,  as  they  did  all  that  long  dangerous  after- 
noon, and  when  hour  after  hour  we  crept  and  crawled  in  vain 
after  the  wounded  bull,  Dooda  made  up  his  mind  to  hold  his 
tongue.  It  was  only  after  he  had  left  my  employ,  he  at 
last  confessed  to  Brownie  what  he  had  done. 

That  is  one  of  the  maddening  faults  of  a  Somali.  His 
conceit  is  insufferable,  he  thinks  he  and  he  alone  knows 
what  the  occasion  demands.  His  eyes  are  good,  but  not  so 
good  as  those  of  a  Wakamba,  a  N'dorobo  or  Massai.  His 
judgment  of  course  is  worthless  and,  though  he  will  seldom 
desert  you,  he  is  apt  to  become  uncontrollably  nervous  in  a 
really  tight  place,  and  fire  off  his  gun.  In  the  old  days 
when  none  of  the  East  Africa  natives  were  trained  gun- 
bearers,  he  was  often  the  best  thing  to  be  had.  To-day  he 
is  a  mistake. 


292  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

I  have  never  heard  anything  as  nerve-shaking  as  the 
noise  made  by  fifty  or  more  buffalo  when  charging  through 
dense  scrub.  The  fact  that  they  are  quite  invisible  when 
within  so  short  a  distance  as  fifteen  yards,  adds  to  the  strain, 
the  tornado  of  sound,  snorting,  whistling,  crashing,  thun- 
ders on,  you  feel  that  you  must  be  swept  down.  But  no, 
the  rushing  column  sees  you  a  few  yards  off,  though  you 
can  see  nothing,  and  stops  like  a  wall. 

Long  before  this  point  in  the  proceedings  is  reached  the 
trackers  and  any  gunbearers  that  are  not  first  rate  have 
decamped,  and  I  do  not  blame  them.  Dooda  would  have 
retreated  if  he  had  dared,  but  he  knew  well  what  he  would 
have  got  had  he  done  so.  As  usual,  my  Brownie  was  cool 
and  calm,  standing  up  to  my  elbow. 

As  with  rhino  charging,  so  with  buffalo.  The  action  of 
the  animals  is  often  misunderstood.  The  black  mass 
rushes  forward.  A  wild  fire  is  opened,  men  take  to  the  trees 
if  there  are  any.  The  herd  divides  or  sweeps  back,  and  the 
sportsman  by  the  camp  fire  has  yet  another  blood-curdling 
yarn  to  tell,  of  gory  death  narrowly  averted  by  strenuous  rifle 
fire.  Of  course  it  is  not  so.  Had  he  kept  his  nerve  and 
stood  his  ground  silently,  his  men  (gunbearers  at  least)  would 
have  been  quiet  and  he  would  have  really  learned  something 
of  the  mystery  of  jungle  life.  I  have  three  times  awaited  a 
rushing  column  of  buffalo  in  densest  scrub.  They  have 
come  up  at  great  speed  to  within  a  very  few  yards,  then 
stood  stock  still  for  half  a  minute,  sometimes  more,  and 
then  as  wildly  rushed  away. 

A  single  old  bull,  or  a  cow  with  calf,  is  a  far  more  deadly 
antagonist  than  a  whole  charging  herd. 

While  I  was  in  the  Protectorate  I  heard  of  four  white 
men  who  were  tossed  by  buffalo.  One  was  killed,  another, 
though  horned  three  times  and  trampled  on,  was  not  much 
hurt.  The  other  two  were  rather  severely  wounded. 

Why  my  wounded  bull  never  mustered  up  courage  to 


SYCE'S   ADVENTURE  293 

rush  in  I  cannot  tell.  He  was,  certainly  twice,  as  Kipling 
would  say,  "anxious."  He  turned  to  one  side  of  his  own 
spoor,  went  back  on  his  track,  lay  by  the  trail  we  had  to 
creep  slowly  and  cautiously  along,  as  we  followed  the  blood 
sign,  and  when  thus,  all  unconscious  of  his  presence  within 
a  few  feet  of  us,  we  came  near  to  where  he  stood,  he  rushed 
off,  not  on  to  us. 

I  had  had  poor  luck  in  finding  buffalo,  or  I  should  not 
have  pressed  after  this  one  as  I  did  in  such  an  exceedingly 
dangerous  place.  If  my  bullets  had  not  been  changed  he 
could  not  have  gone  a  mile  and  I  should  have  got  him,  or  he 
might,  under  the  circumstances,  have  got  me.  But  of 
one  thing  I  satisfied  myself  of  on  this  and  on  another  occa- 
sion, namely,  that  herds  of  buffalo  will  not  charge  over 
standing  men. 

It  had  been  a  hard  day,  I  was  weary  with  continual 
crawling  and  stooping.  And  my  easy  chair  by  the  camp 
fire  was  a  real  luxury.  As  I  sat  and  looked  long  that  night 
into  the  glowing  embers  of  our  thornwood  fire,  I  seemed  to 
see  another  herd  in  another  land  of  very  different  buffalo, 
not  at  all  like  these  fierce  black  denizens  of  the  East  African 
jungle,  but  a  noble  and  useful  beast  that  once  in  countless 
thousands  roamed  the  broad  prairies  and  mountain  lands  of 
our  own  far  West.  I  saw  again  the  buffalo  of  long  ago, 
as  I  saw  them  on  that  first  fresh,  frosty  September  morning 
in  1868. 

"I  speak  of  one,  from  many  singled  out, 
One  of  those  blissful  days  that  cannot  die," 

when  before  me  stretched  the  boundless  yellow  prairie 
and  behind  me  rose  the  run.  The  sky  was  blue,  as  I  think 
you  see  it  only  in  our  Autumn  Indian  Summer  days.  And 
the  air!  Well,  I  was  only  eighteen  and  it  went  to  my  head. 
Since  I  had  been  able  to  read  anything,  I  had  pored  over 
Ballentine's  "Dog  Crusoe"  and  other  Western  story  books 


294  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

for  boys.  They  were  sound,  healthy  books  too,  though  no 
one  reads  them  now;  and  I  had  always  dreamed  that  some 
day,  somehow,  I  with  my  own  eyes  might  see  those  glorious 
plains  and  mountains  and  the  painted  wild  men  who  rode 
over  them  brave  and  free.  Here  at  last  was  the  dear  dream 
coming  true.  Here  was  real  prairie.  With  and  behind  me 
rode  two  hundred  and  fifty  naked  Indians,  stripped  to  the 
breech  clout  and  armed  for  hunting  or  for  war;  and  beyond 
us,  shaggy  and  dangerous  looking  as  the  morning  vapours 
magnified  their  great  bulk,  stood  countless  herds  of  buffalo. 
The  most  distant  were  quietly  feeding,  having  as  yet  seen 
nothing  of  the  long  line  of  cantering  ponies.  Those  nearer 
were  stamping  the  ground  as  though,  with  mingled  anger  and 
dismay,  they  resented  man's  inroad  into  the  rich  fair  land 
that  was  all  their  own. 

We  had  left  the  teepee  camp,  cunningly  hidden  in  a  fold 
of  the  great  plain,  at  earliest  light,  and  as  all  the  warriors 
streamed  out  a  crescent  line  was  formed.  In  the  centre 
rode  the  war  chief  of  the  Crees,  he  alone  carrying  a  spear,  and 
wearing  an  eagle  war  bonnet;  on  one  side  of  him  rode  my 
boyhood's  friend  (to  whose  kindness  I  owed  the  journey  that 
took  us  for  more  than  six  months  into  the  wild),  and  I  was 
on  the  other.  Now  the  swift,  smooth  canter  quickened,  the 
graceful  swaying  line  of  copper  colour  bent  and  bulged,  as 
each  naked  rider  pressed  his  war  pony  on.  The  chief  put 
his  hand  to  his  mouth  and  gave  his  signal  yell,  and  every 
one  went  at  the  charge. 

The  dust  rose  in  clouds,  here  and  there  a  rider  went  down 
as  his  pony  stumbled  and  crashed  to  earth  in  a  badger  hole. 
Our  hunter,  one  of  the  most  skilful  buffalo  killers  in  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company,  riding  to  my  right,  was  hurled  to  the 
earth,  rolled  over  and  over  and  lay  still.  The  following 
women  and  boys  would  pick  up  the  fallen ;  the  wave  of  horse- 
men rode  over  them  and  on.  There  was  no  stopping  now — 
you  had  to  ride  whether  you  would  or  no. 


SYCE'S   ADVENTURE  295 

In  what  seemed  but  a  few  minutes  we  were  close  on  the 
mighty  herd.  The  dust  rose  in  blinding  clouds  while  the 
thunder  of  the  headlong  rush  shook  the  very  earth. 

Rider  rode  against  rider.  Horses  were  forced  against 
the  very  sides  of  the  maddened  mass.  Buffaloes  fell  and 
men  and  horses  fell  on  top  of  them.  Then  the  terror-stricken 
beasts  gathered  a  sort  of  order  as  they  ran  and  in  a  long 
dark  line  streamed  away  from  their  pursuers.  It  was  now 
that  most  of  the  killing  was  done.  Good  hunters  and  well 
trained  ponies  getting  out  of  the  melee  had  at  last  their 
turn.  Hanging  on  the  flank,  coming  up  with  sharp,  sudden 
rush  when  the  trade  gun  was  again  loaded  with  a  handful 
of  powder,  or  a  bullet  spit  from  the  Indian's  capacious 
mouth,  with  a  smack  of  the  gun  butt  on  thigh  or  horse's 
quarter  to  settle  the  powder  into  the  priming  pan  of  the 
flintlock.  At  a  few  feet  distance  such  a  charge  well  placed 
was  enough.  Then  fall  a  few  yards  behind  to  load  again. 
So  on,  and  on,  and  on  -  — ! 

I  had  a  very  confused  idea  of  what  I  did  on  that  first 
great  day.  I  was  armed  with  about  as  cumbersome  and 
ineffective  a  weapon  as  I  could  have  chosen  if  I  had  tried, 
a  heavy  thirteen-pound  double-barrel  rifle  by  Rigby  that 
took  a  bullet  almost  the  size  of  an  egg,  and  kicked  so  that 
it  nearly  knocked  me  off  my  pony.  I  only  know  that  I  did 
all  I  knew,  and  at  the  time  that  was'nt  much! 

You  may  have  heard  of  the  brave  citizen  of  a  lawless 
little  cattle  town,  in  the  early  70*8,  who  was  elected  by  his 
fellow  citizens  to  fill  the  dangerous  office  of  sheriff,  and  who, 
as  was  expected,  in  consequence  of  his  acceptance  of  the  post, 
died  soon  after,  as  the  Western  saying  is,  "With  his  boots  on." 
He  was  popular,  and  the  community  voted  him  a  public 
funeral  and  a  headstone.  The  inscription  on  the  latter 
ran,  "To  the  memory  of-  -  Sheriff  of- 

"He  did    his    damn'dest  —  no  angel  in  heaven   could    do 


more.'5 


296  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

I  found  myself  at  last  at  the  foot  of  a  steep  bluff,  my 
pony  ridden  to  a  standstill,  and  one  bullet,  my  last,  in  the 
left  barrel  of  my  rifle.  Right  before  me  stood  a  wounded 
and  irate  old  bull.  Whether  I  had  wounded  him  or  not  I 
didn't  know.  Most  likely  I  had,  for  he  was  old,  tough  and 
useless,  and  the  Indians  only  killed  for  meat;  anyway, 
with  that  last  bullet  I  finished  him  and,  decorated  with  his 
tail,  started  campward  on  foot,  triumphant.  Where  camp 
was  I  had  no  remotest  idea,  but  the  slain  buffalo  dotted  the 
plains,  and  women  carrying  in  meat  soon  marked  the  long 
hot  trail  homeward. 

Yes,  as  I  looked  long  into  my  African  camp  fire,  that 
great  day  came  back  to  me  again.  My  rude  but  hospitable 
hosts  of  long  ago  had  vanished  with  the  innumerable  herds 
that  fed  and  housed  them.  Towns  flourish  and  wheat 
harvests  wave  where  the  buffalo  streamed  along  in  thunder- 
ing flight.  And  I  thought,  will  this  wild  land  in  like  manner 
know  change  as  momentous  ?  May  it  too  become  a  land 
of  health  and  homes  and  plenty  ?  It  is  hard  to  say.  Pro- 
phecy is  fascinating  but  dangerous.  Certainly  the  black 
man  here  shows  no  sign  of  vacating  his  heritage,  nor  does  the 
white  man,  as  yet,  often  give  proof  that  he  is  able  or  willing 
to  be  in  it  more  than  an  adventurer  and  fortune  seeker.  The 
country  must  of  right  belong  at  last  to  the  men,  black  or 
white,  who  find  in  it  a  home. 

Since  I  have  allowed  myself  to  be  betrayed  into  the 
reminiscent  mood,  I  may  as  well  tempt  my  readers'  patience 
a  little  further.  When  I  was  quite  a  little  fellow  I  looked 
daily  for  years  at  the  blue  Mourne  Mountains  as  they  sloped 
gradually  to  the  Irish  Sea.  The  sweeping  line  of  those 
purple  hills,  with  the  climbing  patches  of  yellow  oats  and 
barley,  that  made  a  brave  fight  to  hold  their  own  against 
the  surrounding  bog  and  heather,  are  as  clearly  before  my 
eyes  now  as  they  were  in  the  autumn  days  of  fifty  years  ago. 
On  one  side  the  mountains  rose  from  the  sands  and  mud 


SYCE'S   ADVENTURE  297 

flats  of  Dundalk  Bay,  but  on  the  other  they  tumbled  down 
most  precipitously,  to  as  beautiful  a  little  sea  lough  as  even 
the  Irish  coast  can  boast.  Carlingford  Lough,  with  the 
hanging  woods  of  Rostrevor  on  one  side  and  its  line  of  ruined 
robber  castles  on  the  other,  battered  into  submission,  as 
most  Irish  castles  are  fancifully  supposed  to  have  been,  by 
the  great  Protecter's  cannon,  or  so  the  local  tradition  had  it. 
We  boys  used  to  be  permitted  sometimes,  as  a  great  treat, 
to  take  the  long  walk  from  Dundalk  to  the  little  inn  at 
Carlingford,  where  no  one  ever  seemed  to  stop,  over  the 
mountaintop.  We  chose  of  course  the  highest  and  most 
difficult  point  for  our  crossing. 

Coming  down  those  steep  two  thousand  feet  we  would 
incontinently  plunge,  all  heated  as  we  were,  into  the  cool 
waters  of  the  lough.  Then,  a  great  supper  of  fresh  herrings 
followed  by  another  swim.  Oh,  those  golden  days!  For- 
tunate is  any  one  who  can  look  back  on  such,  when 

— "  lads  that  thought  there  was  no  more  behind 
But  such  a  day  to-morrow  as  to-day, 
And  to  be  boy  eternal." 

Those  days  had  their  sorrows  and  pains  and  disappoint- 
ments, seemingly  irrevocable  disasters.  Things  you  could 
never  see  right.  Wrong  bitterly  eternal.  The  tears  of  chil- 
dren are  very  bitter  tears  while  they  flow.  But  some  kindly 
alchemy  in  life  passes  a  gently  obliterating  hand  over  them 
all.  You  cannot  remember  the  dark  things  if  you  would, 
while  the  golden  days  still  shine  for  you  with  that  "light 
that  never  was  on  land  or  sea." 

"Now  the  beauty  of  the  thing  when  the  children  play  is 
The  terrible  wonderful  length  that  the  day  is. 
Up  you  jumps  and  out  in  the  sun, 
And  you  fancy  the  day  will  never  be  done." 

T.  E.  Brown,  when  he  wrote  those  lines,  had  the  very 
secret  of  boyhood  in  him  still!  But  I  must  come  back  from 
far  away  prairie  and  vanished  Indian  hunters,  back  from 


2g8  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

that  dear  blue  slope  of  curving  Irish  mountain  land  and  take 
myself  and  my  patient  reader  across  the  Quasi  Nyiro  and 
so  back  to  the  civilization  of  Nairobi  and  the  iron  road  to  a 
distant  coast. 

I  have  lingered  so  long  at  the  foot  of  Kenia  that  I  have 
come  to  feel  as  though  this  great  mountain  was  henceforth 
to  be  a  part  of  me.  It  makes  one  sad  to  turn  one's  back  on 
it,  as  I  must,  to-day.  I  think  it  is  Kenia  whose  majesty 
and  wonder  are  responsible  for  the  dreaming  in  which  I 
have  again  seen  so  clearly  those  dear  Irish  sea-girdled  hills 
that  are  a  real  part  of  myself. 

Arthur  Hugh  Clough  says  somewhere: 

"  Oh  ye  whose  eyes  with  constant  toil  are  tired, 
Come  rest  them  on  the  wideness  of  the  sea." 

Sea  has  never  rested  me  as  have  the  mountains.  The 
seas  to  me  always  seems  relentless,  cruel,  estranging,  as 
Matthew  Arnold  calls  it,  while  the  mountains  carry  me  back 
and  make  me  live  over  again  the  transfigured  days  of 
boyhood. 

Then,  somehow,  mountains  seem  to  call  forth  anew  the 
hopes  and  yearnings  which,  if  we  did  but  speak  out  the  whole 
truth,  if  we  resisted  the  slavery  of  convention,  we  all  should 
confess  are  woefully  apt  to  suffer  abatement  and  decay,  and 
yet  are  more  precious  to  us  than  any  mere  earthly  possession. 

Brown  has  put  what  I  want  to  say  into  beautiful  verse. 
His  peasant  muses: 

"  I  suppose  it  is  God  that  makes  when  He  wills 
Them  beautiful  things,  with  the  lift  of  His  hills 
And  the  waft  of  His  winds;  His  calms  and  His  storms 
And  His  work —  and  the  rest " 

So  true  men,  wearied  in  the  unending  battle,  have  in  all 
the  ages  turned,  as  did  the  Psalmist  of  old,  "to  the  hills 
whence  cometh  our  help."  Bedford  gaol  wall  could  not 
shut  out  from  John  Bunyan's  eyes  those  "delectable  moun- 
tains" which  he'has  helped  millions  to  see,  and  Wordsworth 


SYCE'S  ADVENTURE  299 

could  fancy  no  place  so  fitting  for  the  great  Teacher  as  the 
bright  hill-top : 

"  For  with  the  lapse  of  years  old  fervours  fail, 
And  old  beliefs  and  hopes  and  longings  fade  away. 
Oh!  for  an  hour  on  the  bright  hill-tops  with  that  glorious  voice    .     .    ." 

If  we  could  only  believe  and  live  out  our  belief,  that  we 
men,  in  spite  of  all  separating  differences,  are  in  our  deepest, 
truest  things  alike;  that  all  of  us  lock  in  our  hearts  the 
same  hopes  and  doubts  that  cheer  us  and  cast  us  down,  we 
would  then  be  more  frank  one  with  the  other,  and  would 
surely  oftener  succeed  in  what  we  really  want  to  do;  that  is, 
lend  a  helping  hand,  say  a  cheering  word  to  our  fellow 
travellers  marching,  sometimes  stumbling,  along  the  high 
hard  roadway  of  life.  How  many  of  us  in  our  heart  of  hearts 
have  thanked  William  Wordsworth  no  less  for  the  honesty 
than  the  beauty  of  his  verse.  So  if  I  have  lingered  too  long, 
before  the  mountain  I  have  learned  to  love,  it  must  at  least 
be  admitted  I  have  some  precedent  for  my  loitering  and 
that  I  wait  in  good  company. 

For  several  weeks  I  have  looked  on  Kenia;  seen  her 
looming  near  and  high  as  the  gray  dawn  came  on.  Watched 
for  the  first  flush  of  morning  to  strike  her  ice  and  snow;  and 
all  unexpectedly  in  the  late  evening,  have  watched  as, 
suddenly  unwinding  the  cloudy  wrappings  that  all  day  long 
had  completely  hidden  her,  she  shone  forth,  baring  her 
mighty  brows,  rosy,  glorious  in  the  last  light  of  the  sun, 
for  us  already  set. 

I  have  in  mind  the  manifold  beauties  of  our  own  moun- 
tain chains;  Yosemite,  before  the  winter  snows  have  melted 
from  the  peaks  and  tablelands.  The  Shoshone  crags,  wild 
exceedingly:  you  can  at  one  place  I  know  count  two  hundred 
separate  summits,  all  snow  crowned.  The  lonely  solitudes 
of  the  Granite  range,  that  few  have  penetrated,  where 
in  midsummer  great  ice  islands  still  float  in  but  partially 
thawed  lakes,  and  where  snow  fields  of  many  miles'  extent 


300  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

still  await  the  explorers.  And  yet  one  more,  most  beautiful 
of  all  I  think,  that  view  across  the  blue  five  miles  of  Jackson 
Lake,  to  the  three  great  Tetons  rising  sheer  from  the  farther 
shore.  Yes,  I  have  these  and  many  another  lovely  mountain 
panorama  in  our  country  and  in  Europe  before  my  eyes  as 
I  write.  But  here  surely  are  beauty,  stateliness,  charm, 
that  surpass  them  all.  Limitless  green  lawns  of  grass, 
worn  smooth  by  nature's  cropping,  lie  at  her  feet.  Mountain 
woodlands  are  drawn  up  to  her  for  square  miles  by  the 
hundreds.  Impenetrable  forest  belts  her  as  a  girdle;  and 
then  from  the  mighty  girth  of  her  base  (150  miles)  she  lifts 
herself,  up  above  the  woodland,  above  the  bamboo  thicket, 
above  the  sparse  mountain  pasturages,  up  into  dark  rocky 
gorge  and  crevass,  up  still  into  the  solitudes  of  ice  and  snow, 
till  at  last  with  one  lonely  majestic  column  she  crowns  her- 
self, 18,200  feet  above  the  sea. 

I  have  ridden  far  from  camp  for  this  last  look.  How 
near  she  seems  in  the  hazy  sunlit  vapour  of  the  morning! 
But  though  the  glass  brings  even  her  secret  places  near,  the 
distance  to  that  group  of  summits,  to  that  great  ice  fall  pour- 
ing into  the  profound  hollow  between  them,  is  probably  quite 
fifteen  miles.  Now  the  last  lingering  mists  around  these 
summits  are  melting  away,  and  virgin  snow  and  tumultuous 
ice  fall,  all  lie  open  to  the  blue,  blue  sky.  I  can  see  the  very 
base  of  her  topmost  crown,  and  can  mark  the  sheer  perpen- 
dicular line  (as  seen  from  this  side)  in  which,  with  never  a 
waver,  it  mounts  upward  for  the  last  two  thousand  feet. 
But  Kenia's  mystery  and  charm  gathers  not  only  round  her 
matchless  peak.  Her  mighty  bases  have  their  secrets,  too, 
unsolved,  unpenetrated.  The  forests  on  those  great  slopes 
are  probably  the  densest  in  all  Africa.  The  trees  are  of 
immense  size,  the  bamboo  grows  to  sixty  feet.  The  sides  of 
the  mountain  are  broken  up,  carved  and  ploughed,  more 
deeply  even  than  the  sides  of  Elgon,  by  the  volcanic  forces 
that  tore  their  way  to  the  light. 


SYCE'S   ADVENTURE  30* 

These  purple  hollows,  these  mighty  undulations  of  the 
mountain  woodland  are  not  distinguishable  during  the  day, 
even  when  a  strong  glass  is  used.  But  there  is  some  quality 
in  the  morning  light,  some  reflective  play  of  mist  and  shadow, 
some  illumination  of  deep  spaces  between  the  rocky  walls 
that,  at  that  hour,  help  you  to  get  some  idea,  of  the  quite 
wonderful  tumult  of  heaved-up  mountain  side,  which  makes 
up  the  whole  forest-covered  mass. 

Woodland  wave  crests,  hiding  profound  hollows,  show 
up  momentarily  in  this  tender  light  of  the  morning.  The 
mountain  valleys  widen,  the  canons  deepen,  and  far  above 
these  terrible  barriers  to  man's  approach,  little  unsuspected 
meadows  appear,  creeping  near  as  they  may  to  the  stern 
barriers  of  rock  and  perpetual  snow  above  them. 

This  is  my  last  morning,  and  I  shall  never  see  her  again! 
I  read  over  my  poor  scribblings  and  feel  like  tearing  them  up. 
What  are  words,  unless  indeed  you  are  of  the  magic  few  who 
can  conjure  with  them  ?  And  not  one  of  that  small  band  of 
immortals  has  seen  what  I  am  looking  on. 

Kenia's  beauty  has  been  hidden  long,  wrapped  in  her 
mists,  some  of  the  earliest  explorers  unknowingly  passing 
her  by.  Greek  poets  have  made  Olympus  immortal.  Many 
thousands  who  have  never  seen  them,  love  Wordsworth's 
borderland  hills.  With  Matthew  Arnold  you  breathe 
again  the  spicy  air  of  Alpine  pasture  lands.  Kenia  awaits 
her  poet  still.  I  can  but  hope  that  at  some  distant  time  a 
dark-skinned  poet  may  arise  from  among  those  peoples 
who  have  gazed  on  her  for  ages,  but  who  have  never  yet  had 
their  day,  to  sing  the  beauties  of  this,  most  glorious  of  all  the 
mountains  of  the  plain. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  MORNING'S  RIDE  THROUGH    RHINO 
COUNTRY 

WHEN  the  weather  is  fine  I  always  breakfast  in  the 
open  by  the  glowing  embers  of  the  watch-fire  of  the 
night  before.  Just  as  I  had  finished  my  meal  this  morning, 
the  sun's  rim  rose  on  the  plain  —  my  back  was  to  the  sunrise 
—  and  quickly  out  of  the  gray  dawning  light  a  perfect  rain- 
bow shaped  itself,  so  near,  so  clear,  that  one  could  surely 
mark  the  very  spot  where  would  at  last  be  found  by  some- 
body the  "golden  key"  which,  as  every  well-educated  child 
knows,  or  used  to  know,  lies  hidden  in  the  ground  at  the  place 
the  rainbow  starts  from.  There  was  not  yet  enough  sun- 
shine to  make  the  edges  of  this  sunrise  rainbow  very  distinct, 
but  the  arch  of  it  was  very  high  and  very  perfect,  and  in  the 
middle  of  its  great  bow  all  the  morning  vapours  had  taken  on 
a  soft  rosy  tinge  wonderful  to  see. 

"A  rainbow  at  morning  the  shepherd's  warning,"  says 
the  old  Scotch  saw.     At  the  Equator  nature  will  not   b 
bound  by  the  rigid  rules  of  the  North,  so  my  rainbow  ushered 
in  a  delightful  day. 

I  have  said  that  there  was  but  little  colour  among  the  trees 
and  shrubs  of  this  part  of  Africa.  But  its  very  rarity  makes 
its  presence  all  the  more  welcome  when  you  do  light  on  it. 
Here  to-day  as  I  ride  is  colour  indeed.  It  brushes  against 
my  mule,  raises  its  sweetness  to  my  face,  hangs  on  all 
sides  ready  to  be  plucked  and  appreciated.  Our  way  winds 
among  scattered  thickets  of  a  straggling  gray  bush  not 
particularly  noticeable  till  its  flowering  time  conies  —  which 
seems  to  last  many  weeks  —  but  stop  then  and  examine  what 

302 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY     303 

it  offers  you.  In  rows  of  from  three  to  eight  on  the  end  of 
each  bending  stem  hang  the  beautiful  yellow  blossoms, 
almost  four  inches  long.  At  a  few  feet's  distance  they  look 
like  Marechal  Niel  roses  half-blown,  growing  on  a  gray 
althea  bush  and  if  you  imagine  an  althea  flower  four  inches 
long  and  pendant,  with  five  petals  that  overlap  each  other 
(I  have  no  botany  book  with  me  and  I  am  ashamed  to  say  I 
have  forgotten  how  many  petals  the  althea  has)  and  so  thick 
and  rich  in  colour  that  the  flower  is  solid  and  heavy  as  it 
hangs,  not  spread  out  flat  along  the  parent  stem  as  the 
pretty  althea,  but  bravely  swinging  free,  then  you  would  have 
some  idea  of  my  nameless  yellow  African  beauty.  The  pistil 
is  of  a  rich  crimson,  and  so  waxen  that  even  in  blotting  paper 
all  beauty  is  crushed  and  lost  if  you  try  to  dry  it.  The  calix 
is  soft  green.  The  petals  are  a  brilliant  scarlet  at  the  base. 
Like  many  another  beautiful  and  interesting  thing  in  the 
land  this  flower  is  nameless;  and  when  some  one  does  give  it 
a  name  I  plead  for  something  better  than  an  inch  or  more  of 
hyphenated  Latin!  There  is,  too,  an  orchid  that  hangs  out 
now  and  then  a  flaming  spot  of  crimson  from  its  background 
and  anchorage  of  cactus  brush.  The  flowers  are  closely 
bunched  together,  about  an  inch  and  a  half  in  length,  little 
frills  of  yellow  on  their  lips.  This  is  a  pretty  orchid  that  shriv- 
els and  falls  when  you  touch  it,  but  if  left  alone  it  seems  some- 
how to  get  a  good  living  by  the  side  of  even  the  warlike  cactus. 

The  country  around  here  for  many  miles  is  flat  and  when 
the  veldt  is  flat  and  has  been  regularly  pastured  by  herds  or 
game  after  the  rains,  blue,  yellow,  white  and  mauve  flowers 
grow  in  patches  close  to  the  ground.  One,  very  like  a  single 
primrose  in  shape,  colour  and  smell,  is  lovely.  It  raises  its 
two  inches  of  height  from  an  inconspicuous  little  bunch  of 
gray  leaves,  and  lives  only  for  a  day  or  two. 

And  now,  still  following  the  river's  course  toward  the  blue 
wooded  ridges  that  skirt  the  great  mountains,  the  whole 
aspect  of  things  changes.  The  tiresome  euphorbia  and  its 


3o4  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

spiney  following  are  all  left  behind  and  beneath  me.  The 
pretty  cedar-like  thorn  trees  still  grow  along  the  river  bank, 
but  mingling  among  them  are  others  that  tell  of  the  mountain 
near  by.  The  juniper,  perhaps  the  best  timber  tree  in 
East  Africa,  begins  here  to  show  itself,  not  yet  grown  into 
the  stately  tree  with  straight  stem  rising  one  hundred  feet 
and  more,  free  of  knot  or  branch,  which  we  left  amid  the 
dark  woodland  beyond  Eldama  Ravine.  But  stunted 
thought  it  way  be,  for  the  ravine  land  is  too  hot,  sandy  and 
dry  for  it  to  flourish  in,  it  is  good  to  see. 

Here  and  there  you  notice  a  graceful  rounded  mass  of 
rich  lilac  flowers,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  sights  the  forest 
has  to  show.  I  cannot  find  anyone  who  knows  its  name; 
it  is  commonly  called  the  chestnut  tree*  but  I  can  see  no 
resemblance  whatever  to  the  chestnut  about  it,  unless  it  be 
a  prickly  burr  which  protects  the  seed. 

Seen  at  a  few  feet's  distance  the  flowers  look  ragged,  but 
from  the  ground  the  effect  it  presents  of  masses  and  bunches 
of  fresh  lilac  colour  is  very  striking  indeed.  It  grows  as  high 
as  sixty  feet.  The  stem  is  smooth  and  graceful,  the  crown 
spreads  wide  and  is  one  mass  of  bloom.  I  have  not  seen  it 
growing  anywhere  at  a  height  of  less  than  seven  hundred  feet. 

As  I  mount  higher  still,  the  wild  olive  crowns  the  river 
banks  and  in  single  trees  and  small  groves  is  scattered  over 
the  steep  stony  slopes  of  bordering  hills.  The  colour  and 
height  of  the  African  wild  olive  (a  common  tree)  is  very 
much  the  same  as  its  Italian  cousin.  And  I  could  almost 
fancy  I  was  riding  beneath  a  neglected  olive  slope  in  those 
parts  of  Tuscany  where  the  poor  land  scarcely  repays  the 
toil  of  the  peasant  and  the  terraces  have  been  allowed  to 
crumble  away.  Now  I  turn  my  mule's  head  for  an  hour  or 
two  away  from  the  river  and,  scrambling  up  the  stony  slope 
that  leads  to  the  level  country  at  my  left,  I  come  face  to  face 
with  a  totally  different  scene. 

*  Calidendron.     I  have  since  learned  that  it  it  well  known  in  other  parts  of  Africa. 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY     305 

The  suddenness,  the  unexpectedness  of  this  land,  is  one 
of  its  many  charms.  A  ride  of  a  few  miles  is  full  of  surprises. 
You  never  can  tell  what  you  may  meet  or  see. 

The  spaciousness  of  the  splendid  landscape,  the  moun- 
tains standing  solitary,  as  though  they  would  not  be  crowded 
on,  makes  it  unlike  any  land  I  have  ever  seen. 

I  am  on  the  northwest  side  of  Kenia  and  about  forty 
miles  still  from  the  mountain's  base,  though  it  is  hard  to 
believe  it.  And  behind  me  and  before  me,  as  I  face  it,  the 
level  country  is  thickly  sown  for  twenty-five  miles  with  great 
masses  of  red  granite,  out-croppings  of  the  same  formation. 
A  Celt  would  say  that  the  Devil  and  the  giants  had  been 
at  war  or  play  in  the  old  days,  and  that  these  rocks  were  the 
mighty  sling-stones  they  had  hurled  from  the  mountains  at 
each  other.  Some  of  them  are  one  hundred  feet  high,  some 
nearer  four  hundred  feet,  and  all  are  imposing. 

Around  their  rocky  bases  the  grass  grows  so  smooth  and 
fresh  that  it  might  be  a  carefully  tended  lawn  --  the  dis- 
integration of  the  great  stones  must  have  added  richness  to 
the  soil,  and  the  sward  has  buried  their  broad  bases  for  some 
feet  under  its  carpet.  Then  the  prairie  falls  away  from  one, 
rises  gently  towards  the  next  in  curves  and  dips  of  green. 

They  are  half  a  mile  apart,  or  only  fifty  yards  as  it  may 
be.  Some  rise  sheer  and  steep  with  no  crack  or  crevice  for 
bush  or  vine.  On  some  dwarfed  wild  fig  trees  climb  and 
cling.  All  are  of  rich  red  granite,  and  the  sides  and  crowns 
shine  and  glisten  gloriously  in  the  light  of  the  rising  and  set- 
ting sun.  In  the  highest  and  most  inaccessible,  great  troups 
of  little  gray  monkeys  have  found  the  safest  of  hiding  places. 
There  no  climbing  cerval  cat  or  leopard  can  do  them  harm, 
and  up  and  down  the  sheer  sides  of  the  cliffs  they  race  and 
play,  looking  like  flies  walking  on  the  ceiling,  not  like 
animals  at  all. 

As  I  came  between  two  of  those  great  turreted  rocky 
islands,  there  suddenly  arose  an  outcry  so  dreadful  that 


3o6  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

I  took  my  rifle'quickly  from  my  gunboy.  What  could  it  be  ? 
Had  a  family  of  lions  cornered  a  herd  of  zebra  on  the  other 
side  of  the  rocks  ?  and  was  the  hideous  outcry  the  shrill 
death-cry  of  the  zebra  and  the  fierce  growling  of  the  lion 
echoed  back  by  the  rocky  walls  ?  It  was  simply  the  angry 
protest  of  a  large  band  of  baboons  against  our  intrusion.  I 
had  often  seen  baboons  before,  in  large  troops  too,  but  had 
never  heard  their  war-cry.  It  was  truly  a  dreadful  cry.  I 
can  think  of  nothing  to  liken  it  to  but  a  fire  in  a  madhouse, 
when  the  flames  might  reach  men,  women  and  children  at 
once.  The  simile  is  a  horrid  one,  I  admit,  but  the  half  human 
outcry  was  worse  than  anything  I  ever  heard  in  my  life. 

As  I  get  nearer  still  to  the  densely  wooded  country  that 
lies  before  me,  the  masses  of  rock  gradually  soften  the 
outline  and  merge  themselves  in  higher  and  more  regular 
hills  and  ridges,  always  covered  with  greenery  that  rise  up 
and  up  till  they  meet  the  great  flanks  of  Kenia.  The  sun 
was  by  now  high  in  the  heavens,  yet  the  vapours  still  clung 
among  these  purple-blue  foothills.  In  other  lands  you  see 
the  clouds  rise  up  slowly,  steadily  from  the  woodland. 
Here  sometimes  they  have  a  way  of  rising  all  their  own; 
the  breeze  bids  them  be  going;  but  they  linger  and  cling 
to  their  home  of  the  night  that  is  over.  I  am  not  pressing 
too  far  a  mere  fancy;  I  am  stating  a  literal  fact.  The  clouds 
seem  to  drop  cloudy  anchor  lines  that  from  some  miles' 
distance  look  as  though  they  were  twisted  around  the  very 
tree-tops.  The  snowy  feathery  mass  of  them  yields  to  the 
light  air  and  floats  away.  But  each  separate  cloud  has  its 
trailers  behind  it  that  bind  it  to  the  forest  tops.  The  effect 
when  the  sun  shines  full  on  forest  and  mountain  is  very 
wonderful.  It  is  as  though  a  mighty  army  were  camped 
on  the  great  woodland,  and  that  hidden  among  the  trees 
ten  thousand  campfires  were  sending  up  columns  of  silver 
smoke.  I  have  seen  the  same  effect  in  early  morning  also 
on  the  slopes  of  Mt.  Elgon. 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY     307 

Here,  as  I  said,  it  is  the  unexpected  that  happens.  Sud- 
denly we  come  on  two  rhinos  feeding  among  the  brush. 
As  we  climb  a  ridge  we  are  close  to  them  before  either  party 
is  aware  of  the  other.  I  have  been  scribbling  notes  as  I 
ride,  but  the  note-book  is  now  hurriedly  pocketed.  Ugly 
brutes  these  rhinos  surely  are,  and  dangerous  as  they  are 
ugly.  Now  a  sporting  license  issued  by  the  Government  of 
the  Protectorate  only  permits  the  holder  to  kill  two  rhinos. 
Personally  I  think  this  a  mistake.  All  rhinos  should  be 
shot  at  sight.  They  are  a  common  nuisance,  too  common 
hereabout;  useless  for  food,  and  especially  dangerous  to 
unarmed  people.  The  natives  dread  them.  I  have  in 
another  part  of  the  country  already  taken  half  my  allowance 
of  rhinos,  and  as  neither  of  these  has  the  one  redeeming 
feature  allowed  to  a  rhino,  a  good  horn,  they  are  safe  so  far 
as  I  am  concerned;  so  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  but  to 
go  around  them,  which  I  do,  my  syce  with  the  memory  of  the 
buffalo  column  still  in  his  soul,  crowding  up  close  on  the 
guns  with  the  led  mule.  As  we  make  a  circle  we  draw  off 
to  one  side  and  pass  close  to  a  winding  water-course,  dry  in 
the  hot  weather,  but  holding  running-water  now,  which 
gurgles  among  tall  grass  and  thorn  bushes,  its  sides  rocky 
and  steep.  A  little  ridge  runs  from  the  hill  we  had  to  turn 
down,  in  order  to  go  around  the  rhino,  to  the  edge  of  the 
water  course,  and  shuts  off  our  view  of  a  sharp  bend  in  its 
stream.  The  gulley  makes  another  bend  to  meet  this  ridge, 
so,  as  our  heads  rise  above  it,  there  lies  a  little  tongue- 
shaped  promontory  before  us,  and  we  stand  on  high  ground 
at  its  centre.  A  few  yards  away  is  a  whole  family  of  ostriches, 
cock  bird  and  hen  and  eight  half-grown  chicks  (the  chicks 
would  stand  over  five  feet  high).  For  a  moment  dire  con- 
fusion reigns,  for  the  ostrich  is  exceedingly  wary,  and  when 
the  old  birds  have  a  brood  they  are  the  very  most  careful  of 
all  wild  creatures;  and  if  the  Syrian  ostriches,  as  the  Good 
Book  says,  left  their  eggs  to  take  their  chances  in  the  sand, 


3o8  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

their  African  cousins  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  The  birds  old 
and  young  run  hither  and  thither.  The  water-course  is  not 
to  be  attempted;  father  and  mother  might  get  over,  but  the 
tender  bodies  of  the  chicks  could  not  endure  the  thorn 
bushes  or  the  sharp  rocks.  Presently  the  hen  rushes  off  to 
our  left,  but  the  cock  is  not  of  her  mind  at  all.  He  chooses 
a  braver  and,  as  it  turns  out,  a  wiser  course.  In  some  way 
or  other  he  impresses  his  will  on  his  eight  frightened  children. 
Led  by  the  boldest  chick,  they  form  a  "line  ahead"  and 
with  their  pretty  brown  fluffy  wings  half  spread  sail  steadily 
by  us,  keeping  distance  as  though  they  were  a  line  of  battle- 
ships, the  cock  in  the  rear.  Then  when  the  father  realizes 
how  close  his  brood  must  come  to  us  in  passing,  he  deliber- 
ately leaves  the  rear  of  the  family  column  and  splendidly 
sails  along  between  the  enemy  and  his  children.  He  seemed 
to  look  right  into  my  face  as  he  went  by,  not  thirty  yards 
away.  It  was  a  rare  and  beautiful  sight. 

But  the  morning  was  not  over  yet,  and  I  was  to 
have  another  and  a  very  near  sight  of  an  animal  that  always 
seems  to  me  one  of  the  most  attractive  in  Africa. 

I  never  care  to  shoot  a  giraffe.  As  a  specimen  he  is 
unnatural  unless  mounted  as  he  stands,  and  standing  he 
would  look  uncouth  unless  one  found  him  some  such  place 
to  stand  in  as  the  Rotunda  of  the  Capitol  at  Washington. 
(He  would  look  better  there,  by  the  way,  than  some  of  the 
things  now  in  it!) 

The  giraffe  is  too  old  to  shoot;  no  one  can  tell  how  old  he 
is,  much  older  than  the  elephant.  And  no  one  would  think 
of  shooting  an  elephant  were  he  not  prodigiously  destructive 
to  the  farmer  and  were  his  tusks  not  worth  a  great  deal  of 
money.  But  the  giraffe  is  perfectly  harmless,  he  was  never 
known  to  hurt  anyone,  and  he  gets  his  living  off  the  upper 
boughs  of  thorn  trees,  which  no  one  can  reach  but  himself, 
and  nobody  else  would  eat  if  he  could  reach  them. 

To  see  his  beautifully  mottled  skin  towering  up  among 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY     309 

and  over  the  flat  green  thorn  trees,  is  surely  one  of  the 
strangest  and  most  beautiful  sights  the  animal  world  offers 
to  man.  As  he  stands  and  dips  and  bends  and  twists  his 
nine-foot  long  neck  in  and  out  among  the  armed  branches 
of  the  tree,  he  is  grace  personified.  I  was  able  to  watch 
seven  of  these  creatures,  the  king,  his  harem  and  his  children, 
all  gathered  around  one  green-topped  tree.  From  seven 
points  of  vantage  they  dipped  into  it  at  once,  stooping  under 
an  unusually  keenly  armed  bough,  bending  over  another, 
their  necks  seeming  to  twist  two  or  three  ways  at  once.  I 
had  the  good  fortune  to  come  very  near  without  alarming 
them,  and  with  my  Zeiss  glass,  could  see  them  as  though  they 
were  not  more  than  ten  yards  away.  But  when  at  last  the 
treacherous  breeze  betrayed  us,  and  they  plunged  into  flight! 
well,  no  one  could  call  their  movements  graceful.  The 
immensely  long  forelegs  are  thrown  forward,  as  you  see  a 
very  high-stepping  horse  sometimes  throw  his  forelegs  for- 
ward, till  the  hoof,  for  the  faction  of  a  second  is  pointed 
straight  out  in  front.  The  giraffe  makes  this  motion  with 
a  sort  of  jerk  at  the  end  of  it,  as  though  he  intended  in  the 
first  instance  to  fling  his  hoof  as  far  as  he  could  forward,  and 
then  as  a  sort  of  afterthought  brings  it  to  the  ground,  then 
when  it  reaches  earth  he  flounders  forward  with  his  high 
shoulders,  lifts  both  ungainly  hindlegs  and  plants  them 
almost  together.  There  is  a  great  antediluvian  lizard 
known  to  us,  who  had  two  brains,  one  to  move  his  body 
and  another  to  move  his  abnormally  long  tail.  It  looks 
as  though  this  giraffe,  like  the  long  lizard,  also  needed 
two  brains,  one  to  move  his  hind  legs  and  another  to  move 
his  forelegs,  and  as  though  the  two  brains  wouldn't  act 
perfectly  together. 

And  now,  coming  back  toward  the  river,  camp  is  near. 
Is  it  possible  that  this  upper  country  looking  so  fresh,  so 
green,  so  shady,  the  streams  running  clear  as  in  the  hills  of 
Ireland  and  Scotland,  lies  within  twenty-five  miles  of  the 


3io  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

rhino  cactus  stronghold  ?  This  is  the  land  of  surprises  in- 
deed. A  few  hours  ago  you  dismounted  from  your  mule  if 
you  were  wise,  for  rhinos  seem  to  have  a  peculiar  aversion  to 
mules,  and  walked  warily  in  the  spiney  jungle  of  Africa 
proper;  footprints  of  lion  and  rhino  crossed  and  re-crossed 
the  way,  and  while  from  the  river  sandbank  the  cruel  croco- 
dile pushed  noiselessly  into  the  yellow  stream.  Here  is  an- 
other land,  a  land  where  soft  green  meadows  in  curving 
swells  press  up  to  the  very  edges  of  dense  mountain  forests 
as  though  they  were  English  park  lands  browsed  by  the 
deer.  And  looking  sheer  down  on  you  is  the  brow  of  as 
glorious  a  mountain  as  there  is  in  the  world. 

Mount  Kenia  was  ascended  with  immense  difficulty  five 
years  ago.  The  ascent  was  made  from  the  southern  side 
shown  in  the  extraordinary  photograph  by  Mr.  Binks,  a 
copy  of  which  he  has  kindly  allowed  me  to  publish.  The 
northern  side  of  the  mountain  as  I  drew  near  seemed  to  offer 
a  much  easier  approach  at  least  as  far  up  as  the  great  de- 
pression into  which  falls  the  main  glacier.  From  that  basin 
towers  aloft  the  final  peak,  on  this  northern  face  of  it  surely 
unscalable.  Here  a  calamity  overtook  our  sefari,  when  we 
had  almost  reached  the  foot  of  these  northern  slopes.  The 
man  we  had  trusted  to  provision  our  men  failed  us  com- 
pletely. The  buffalo  herds  which  we  had  come  to  seek  had 
been  driven  away  by  the  Massai  cattle.  We  were  out  of 
potio  and  in  almost  gameless  land;  nothing  remained  for  us 
but  to  send  most  of  our  men  back  to  Laikipia  to  get  food,  and 
while  we  awaited  their  return  from  the  journey  of  seventy 
miles,  we  were  chained  to  camp.  I  enjoyed  the  ever- 
changing  view  of  the  mountain,  but  I  greatly  longed  to  push 
nearer  and  explore  its  northern  side  even  for  a  little  way. 
This  was  impossible;  there  were  not  enough  men  left  in 
camp  to  move  our  tents,  so  I  had  to  content  myself  by  making 
excursions  as  far  as  my  mule  could  carry  me  in  a  day. 

I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  forest  belt  here  was  not 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY     311 

nearly  so  dense  as  on  the  other  sides  and  that  a  way  through 
it  might  be  found  without  any  extraordinary  difficulty. 

On  returning  to  Nairobi  what  was  my  chagrin  on  learning 
that  a  surveying  party  led  by  Mr.  McGregor  Ross  was,  at 
the  very  time  we  were  restlessly  waiting  for  our  supplies  at 
the  foot  of  the  mountain,  making  its  way  through  the  very 
forest  belt  that  daily  I  searched  with  my  glasses;  and  that 
having  done  so,  they  camped  on  the  bare,  heathy  uplands 
that  rose  gradually  to  snow-level,  and  at  a  height  of  over  ten 
thousand  feet  made  a  complete  circuit  of  the  peaks. 

The  scientific  results  of  this  remarkable  expedition  will 
soon  be  published,  and  with  them  I  hope  will  appear,  in  some 
more  popular  form,  Mr.  Ross's  beautiful  series  of  telephotic 
photographs. 

Mr.  Ross  tells  me  that  a  path  through  heavy  woods  and 
giant  bamboo  (the  bamboo  was  often  over  sixty  feet  in 
height)  was  found.  He  passed  these  supposedly  insuperable 
obstacles  in  two  days'  march,  and  that  after  this  the  upper 
mountain  lands  presented  no  difficulty  whatever. 

A  trip  to  the  snowy  basin  of  Kenia  will  now  be  within  the 
powers  of  any  reasonably  equipped  sefari.  Ten  days  from 
Naivasha  should  see  camp  pitched  on  the  edge  of  its  principal 
glacier.  So  much  for  the  unexpected  in  East  Africa ! 

Herds  of  elephant  and  buffalo  were  common  amid  these 
untrodden  mountain  solitudes.  The  explorers'  time,  how- 
ever, was  so  taken  up  with  scientific  work  that  no  hunting 
was  done. 

All  round  Kenia  on  the  dry  slopes  of  the  Guasi  Nyiro 
and  farther  to  the  northeast  in  the  little  known  district 
of  Meru,  once  dangerous  but  now  pacified,  is  the  chosen 
home  of  the  rhino.  It  was  in  marching  through  the  cactus 
lands  of  the  Guasi  Nyiro  that  Chanler's  expedition,  in  the 
early  nineties,  was  so  tormented  by  their  constant  attentions. 
Lieutenant  Von  Hohnel  was  terribly  wounded  by  one  of 
these  beasts,  and  had  to  be  carried  to  the  coast.  The 


3i2  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

prolonged  agony  of  such  a  journey  cannot  be  imagined  by 
any  who  have  not  been  in  the  country.  After  Von  Hb'hnel 
received  what  was  almost  a  death-wound,  on  three  occasions 
the  porters  carrying  him  were  so  fiercely  charged  that  they 
let  fall  the  unfortunate  man's  litter,  and  so  almost  extin- 
guished the  spark  of  life  that  nothing  but  his  indomitable 
pluck  kept  alight. 

Three  of  these  porters  were  killed  by  rhino,  so  it  was  no 
heedless  panic  that  made  them  drop  their  suffering  charge. 

I  had  in  this  same  cactus  jungle  on  this  same  river  the 
only  narrow  escape  from  fatal  injury  I  experienced  in  East 
Africa. 

Two  or  three  miles  back  from  the  river  are  to  be  found 
small  bands  of  that  rare  and  graceful  little  antelope, 
geranuk.  Its  neck  is  long  and  flexible  like  a  small  giraffe's, 
the  horns  somewhat  like  those  of  a  reed  buck,  but  turned  in- 
wards at  the  tip.  It  does  not  bound  away  as  do  other  small 
antelopes,  but  throws  its  forefeet  forward  in  a  springing  and 
exceedingly  fast  trot.  I  fancy  this  is  the  only  place  in  the 
Protectorate  where  it  is  to  be  found.  You  are  limited  to  two 
bucks  and  may  count  yourself  lucky  if  you  can  get  one. 
Given  time  and  patience  and  fair  shooting,  you  may  expect 
that  one,  and  should  be  content  after  that  to  leave  the  shy 
graceful  creatures  alone.  Farther  out  on  the  veldt  between 
the  sparsely  wooded  hills  and  plains  that  stretch  forty  miles 
to  the  base  of  Kenia  the  oryx  is  found  in  abundant  numbers. 
This  is  one  of  the  finest  of  the  African  antelopes  and  carries 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  heads;  the  male  and  female  both 
carry  horns.  The  horns  of  the  bull  are  thicker,  those  of  the 
cow  often  the  longer.  I  would  advise  you  not  to  be  in  too 
great  a  hurry  to  shoot  the  first  one  you  see.  Learn  to  dis- 
tinguish between  bulls  and  cows.  Look  at  them  carefully 
with  your  glass.  Patiently  crawl  near,  for  if  these  should 
escape  you  there  will  be  other  chances  before  long.  You  can 
shoot  but  two,  and  if  you  kill  males  you  will  not  hurt  the  herd, 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY     313 

for  nature  provides  far  more  males  than  are  necessary  for 
reproduction.  It  is  a  pretty  safe  plan  to  select  single  bulls 
feeding  by  themselves.  They  nearly  always  carry  a  good 
horn.  Oryx  are  sometimes  rather  difficult  to  approach,  but 
with  these  antelopes,  as  with  all  the  big  game  I  know  of 
in  this  country,  perseverance  is  the  sure  road  to  success. 
When  you  have  selected  the  animal  carrying  the  trophy,  wait; 
follow  him,  follow  him  as  long  as  you  can  travel.  If  one 
stalk  fail,  wait  a  while,  sit  down  and  smoke  a  pipe,  and  fol- 
low him  again.  I  have  made  four  long  and  unsuccessful 
stalks  in  one  day,  on  oryx,  then  sat  down  and  waited  until 
they  began  feeding  at  two  miles  off,  then  made  my  fifth 
attempt  and  secured  my  head.  A  good  bull  oryx  often 
accompanies  a  large  herd  of  zebra.  It  is  therefore  well  to 
look  the  herds  of  zebra  over  carefully  with  your  glass.  If 
you  can,  separate  your  game  from  the  zebra,  as  these  often 
make  an  approach  impossible.  Never  be  discouraged,  even 
in  the  morning  you  find  the  oryx  almost  unapproachable. 
Later  in  the  day  you  will  in  all  likelihood  secure  an  easy 
.stalk. 

Six  or  eight  miles  up  the  Guasi  Nyiro  above  its  junction 
with  the  Guasi  Narok,  and  some  three  or  four  miles  out  on 
the  plain,  among  the  giant  kopjes  that  are  here  scattered  over 
the  country,  seems  the  favourite  haunt  of  this  splendid  an- 
telope. Let  me  add  the  warning  I  have  repeated  in  another 
chapter.  Go  up  to  a  wounded  oryx  carefully.  And  above 
all,  when  your  gunbearer  is  hallaling  him  (cutting  his 
throat),  stand  clear  of  the  sweep  of  his  long  sharp  horn.  He 
can,  even  when  dying,  deliver  a  lightning-like  sweeping 
thrust.  In  this  way  one  of  our  gunbearers,  an  old  and  care- 
ful hand,  was  wounded  in  the  leg.  Lion  have  been  found 
dead,  impaled  on  a  dead  oryx's  horns. 

On  these  great  game-browsed  meadows,  and  around  the 
red  granite  kopjes  that  dot  them,  many  lions  still  roam. 
You  will  nightly  hear  their  deep,  coughing,  grunting  cry. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

They  seem  to  go  to  bed  very  early  in  the  morning,  and  unless 
you  are  lucky  enough  to  find  them  loitering  on  their  "kill"  of 
the  night  before,  they  are  hard  to  see.  If  you  are  well 
mounted  or  have  a  Somali  or  gunbearer  mounted  on  a  swift 
pony  to  round  them  up,  Laikipia  plain  is  an  ideal  place  to 
get  them. 

Grant  antelope  are  to  be  seen  here,  not  in  as  large  herds  as 
are  common  south  of  the  railroad  and  east  of  Naivasha  plain, 
nor  do  these  Grant  carry  as  long  a  horn.  These  of  Laikipia 
are  the  grantii  notata,  a  different  variety.  The  beautiful 
horn  does  not  branch  as  widely  and  curves  more  decidedly 
forward.  A  twenty-four  inch  measurement  is  a  good  trophy. 

I  must  not  forget  the  giraffe  but  somehow  I  have  never 
been  able  to  think  of  these  strange  old  world  creatures 
as  things  to  be  shot.  Here  they  can  be  seen  and  studied 
at  leisure,  for  near  the  river,  and  north  to  within  a  few 
miles  of  the  mountain,  herds  of  from  five  to  fifteen  are 
common. 

I  shot  a  wild  dog  on  the  plateau  which  I  am  inclined 
to  think  is  a  distinct  species.  It  is  quite  smooth-skinned, 
no  hair  anywhere  on  the  body,  only  a  few  sparse  white 
hairs  on  the  tip  of  the  tail.  It  is  quite  black  and  resembles 
closely  a  Mexican  hound.  And  twice  I  heard  it  bark 
distinctly.  Other  wild  dogs  do  not  bark.  Three  or 
four  times  I  had  an  opportunity  of  examining  the  dog 
carefully  with  my  glasses,  and  also  twice  I  had  one  thrust 
his  head  out  of  a  bush  and  very  distinctly  bark  at  me. 
If  this  species  is  distinct  it  is  as  yet  unknown  to  science. 
To  give  some  idea  of  the  game  resources  of  this  splendid 
country,  I  will  enumerate  what  I  saw  during  one  morn- 
ing's ride.  Zebra,  eland  (several  hundred),  Grant,  five 
rhino,  one  leopard,  giraffe  (twenty),  klipspringer,  impala 
(three  large  herds),  ostrich,  stein-buck,  duiker-buck  and 
geranuk. 

There  is  another  attraction  that  the  Laikipia  plateau 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY     315 

to  north  of  Mt.  Kenia  possesses.  I  name  it  last,  though 
to  my  mind  that  is  not  by  any  means  its  place.  The  country 
is  watered  abundantly,  for  Africa,  by  streams,  hill  or  moun- 
tain born,  and  though  specially  in  Massai  land  with  its 
great  cattle  herds,  these  soon  lose  their  clear  flow  and 
become  more  or  less  turbid  and  yellow,  still  their  waters 
are  sweet  and  cool  and  are  safe  to  drink  without  boiling. 
The  one  stream  I  now  write  about  is  unlike  any  I  have 
found  in  Africa.  It  leaves  the  mountain  by  way  of  one 
of  the  many  gorges  that  like  great  ribs  seam  its  sides. 
There,  somewhere  among  tangled  forest  as  yet  impene- 
trable, it  has  its  spring  sources.  It  has  somehow  chosen 
for  itself  a  different  course  from  that  of  all  other  brooks, 
which  flow  downward  to  form  the  Guasi  Nyiro  river, 
for  these  a  few  miles  from  the  mountain  are  yellow,  while 
this  stream  runs  clear  and  cool  as  a  trout  brook  in  new 
or  old  England.  Its  flow  is  so  rapid  that  it  cuts  for  itself 
a  gorge  among  the  hills,  and  by  the  time  it  reaches  the 
more  level  country  that  rises  toward  the  base  of  the  moun- 
tain, it  has  worn  a  veritable  canon  deep  in  the  grassy 
slopes. 

I  am  sitting  as  I  write,  on  a  red  granite  kopje  some 
half-mile  from  the  edge.  I  can  see  the  whole  course  of 
this  mountain  stream  till  it  joins  the  large  volume  of  the 
Guasi  Nyiro  five  miles  to  the  westward.  In  this  very 
early  morning  light,  while  the  vapours  of  night  still  hang 
tangled  in  the  forest  tops,  faint  silvery  smoky  columns  of 
the  lightest  spray  rise  above  the  dark  tree-tops  which  line 
the  little  canon,  marking  each  of  them,  the  place  where 
it  rushes  downward  in  a  rapid  or  tumbles  to  a  fall. 

Clear  streams  are  almost  unknown  here,  so  this  one 
will  repay  a  long  ride.  Indeed  there  is  no  better  camping 
place  in  all  the  country.  Its  head  waters  are  more  fre- 
quented by  buffalo  than  any  other  region,  except  it  be  the 
far  lower  and  less  healthy  banks  of  the  Tana  River.  And 


3i6  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

in  its  beautiful  hidden  woodlands  you  can  always  hear 
in  the  early  morning  the  strange  cry  of  the  Colobus  monkey 
sounding  like  a  rapidly  ground  coffee  mill. 

I  spent  many  a  delightful  hour  exploring  its  banks  and 
watching  its  delicious  flow,  so  clear  of  all  mud  and  swamp 
stain.  The  tree  ferns  love  its  cool  shade.  Many  varieties 
unknown  to  me  grew  there.  Little  delicate  fronded 
things  like  long  branches  of  parsley.  Clumps  of  maiden- 
hair, and  others  with  rich  hanging,  curling  leaves.  Some 
on  the  bank,  some  from  great  tree  stems.  You  may 
ride  within  one  hundred  yards  of  that  canon's  edge  on 
smoothly  cropped  green  grass  land,  and  but  for  the  broad 
tree-tops,  just  raising  themselves  above  the  level  sward 
you  could  have  no  idea  that  a  gorge  fully  a  hundred  feet 
deep  lay  at  your  feet. 

Then  as  you  walk  for  miles  along  its  edge,  you  can 
study  leisurely  that  new,  strange  world  of  the  trees  that 
you  have  so  often  longed  to  look  into. 

The  heavy  forests  of  Africa  are  usually  dark,  dank, 
unhealthy.  The  wild  pig  and  an  occasional  bushbuck 
are  the  only  animals  that  haunt  them.  But  this  upper 
world  of  the  tree-tops  is  full  of  life.  There,  monkeys 
swing  from  bough  to  bough  with  extraordinary  quickness. 
Parrots  screech  to  their  fellows,  and  the  purple  pigeons 
fly  to  and  fro.  All  is  above  and  beyond  you  as  you  walk 
in  semi-darkness,  or  rather  crawl,  torn,  scratched  at  every 
step.  From  the  canon's  crest  you  have  a  clear  view  of 
what  you  never  saw  before,  the  world  where  the  insects, 
the  birds,  the  monkeys  find  a  safe  and  sunny  home,  a  region 
different  as  fancy  can  paint  it  from  the  sombre  tangle  below. 

Besides,  the  little  river  in  cutting  its  way  so  deeply  has 
made  a  well-watered  botanical  garden  all  its  own.  There, 
great  trees  grow  and  sweet  flowers  bloom  that  are  strangers 
to  the  country  around.  Here  is  the  stateliest  tree  in 
East  Africa,  the  juniper,  whose  great  stem  rises  majestically 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY      317 

before  you,  as  you  painfully  force  your  way  amid  the 
dark  places  of  the  great  woods,  but  whose  feathery  boughs 
you  never  saw  before,  so  densely  packed  and  laced  to- 
gether are  those  forest  tops.  Here  all  open  to  the  day- 
light, you  can  study  the  gnarled  twistings  of  those  splendid 
limbs,  and  they  remind  you  of  one  of  the  trees  Rousseau 
has  so  wonderfully  painted,  against  a  background  of 
crimson  sunsetting,  a  tree  to  dream  of  and  but  rarely 
seen.  Here  the  wide-spreading  chestnut  finds  all  the 
space  it  needs  for  its  great  bouquet-like  crown  of  rich 
lilac  blossom,  and  groups  of  them  take  up  the  whole  canon 
from  side  to  side.  The  precipitous  sides  of  this  canon 
have  saved  them  from  the  yearly  devastating  grass  fire, 
and  they  sink  their  roots  safely  in  the  cool  well  watered 
soil.  On  the  plain  above  grow  juniper  and  olive  trees 
in  scattered  thousands,  but  all  are  ragged  and  scorched. 
The  junipers  for  half  their  stunted  growth  are  notched 
and  unsightly.  The  olive  trees  bloom  only  at  the  crowns; 
when  they  live  at  all  they  live  a  life  of  protest;  the  hardy 
thorn  tree  alone  shows  scarcely  any  sign  of  these  fierce 
recurrent  purgatorial  scorchings. 

In  the  canon  fire  never  comes.  Its  rocky  borders  give 
the  flames  nothing  to  feed  on,  and  thus  it  is  that  within 
it  you  find  a  secluded  little  woodland,  naturally  matured. 

Darkness  and  dampness  make  the  African  forests 
unpleasant  and  uninteresting  even  when  they  are  pene- 
trable, while  here  are  a  hundred  little  green  open  glades 
where  for  part  of  the  day  the  sun  shines  down.  Silver 
gray  moss  hangs  in  long  waving  veils  from  upper  branches. 
Rich  orange-coloured  mistletoe  plants  itself  wherever  it 
can  see  the  sun.  Long,  delicate  tree-ferns  find  rootage 
in  the  trees  leaning  close  to  the  water,  and  between  feathery 
juniper  tops  bunches  of  chestnut  flowers  twenty  feet  across 
make,  with  their  gray  moss  wreathing,  a  colour  scheme 
scarcely  to  be  matched,  and  never  to  be  forgotten. 


3i8  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

The  shy  and  pretty  Colobus  monkey,  has  chosen  the 
canon  for  his  special  haunt  and  home.  There  he  is  to 
be  seen  in  the  early  morning,  sitting  on  some  topmost 
branch  of  juniper,  taking  a  sunbath,  drying  his  silky  coat 
of  white  and  black  and  his  long  snowy  tail,  after  the  night- 
dew  bath.  Be  merciful  to  him,  take  one  specimen  or 
at  most  two,  and  shoot  him  not  till  you  have  a  sure  chance, 
and  are  certain  that  he  cannot  escape  wounded  among 
the  thick  trees.  His  aquiline  nose  gives  to  his  black  face 
a  rather  unpleasant  human  look,  and  I  felt  guilty  when  I 
had  shot  mine. 

The  rhinoceros  is  one  of  the  stupidest  and  perhaps 
from  that  very  cause  one  of  the  most  dangerous  beasts  in 
British  East  Africa.  He  cannot  distinguish  a  man  from 
a  tree  stump  at  forty  yards.  His  hearing,  however,  is 
very  good  indeed,  and  he  detects  at  once  the  lightest  foot- 
fall. The  earth  seems  to  act  as  a  conductor  of  sound 
to  some  animals  more  than  to  others.  I  have  often  noticed 
rhino  show  signs  of  uneasiness  as  I  was  trying  to  get  near 
enough  for  a  photograph,  when  it  was  quite  impossible 
for  them  to  have  heard  my  tread.  They  would  rise  from 
their  shaded  resting-place,  face  in  every  direction,  sniff 
the  breeze  and,  as  I  stood  quite  still,  lie  down  again.  On 
resuming  my  approach  the  same  restlessness  would  be 
shown. 

They  will  often  trot  up  toward  the  long  sefari  march- 
ing line,  stamp  and  snort  a  little,  and  then  walk  off,  gen- 
erally taking  a  long  circle,  so  as  to  get  the  wind  of  the 
moving  human  snake  that  slowly  crawls  by  them.  In 
this  way  they  would  cut  across  the  head  or  tail  of  a  column 
of  porters,  creating  sudden  consternation,  and  some- 
times doing  damage.  When  once  they  have  confirmed 
their  suspicions  by  a  strong  sniff  of  the  tainted  air,  they 
will  either  rush  away  at  a  rapid  trot,  which  they  are  apt 
to  keep  up  for  several  miles,  or,  if  viciously  disposed, 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY     319 

which  is  rare,  will  wheel  sharply  up  wind  and  charge 
right  down  on  the  enemy  they  can  but  dimly  see.  Even 
then,  nine  times  out  of  ten,  a  rifle  ball  at  twenty  yards 
hitting  them  anywhere  about  the  head  or  the  neck  will 
make  them  swerve  to  one  side  in  their  charge,  so  they 
are  not  as  dangerous  as  they  look,  which  is  fortunate, 
for  there  are  few  more  disturbing  sights  than  a  two-ton 
rhino  coming  straight  at  you,  his  ugly  head  and  threaten- 
ing horns  held  well  down,  and  at  a  pace  so  fast  that  no 
good  runner  could  keep  away  from  him.  To  the  un- 
armed man  and  to  the  native  he  is  specially  dangerous, 
and  a  good  many  of  these  latter  are  killed  by  him.  As  such 
an  accident  seems  of  little  consequence  to  the  herdsman 
the  news  of  it  seldom  reaches  the  local  authorities.  But 
they  will  drive  their  herds  a  long  way  round  to  avoid  a 
bit  of  bush  into  which  fresh  tracks  of  rhino  lead. 

Some  years  ago,  a  noted  professor  of  biology  interested 
me  greatly  as  he  showed  me  the  skull  of  a  Myocene  rhi- 
noceros. In  those  far-away  days  the  beast  must  have 
been  well  able  to  take  care  of  himself,  even  in  the  dan- 
gerous company  which  he  kept.  The  convolutions  of 
the  brain  of  the  Myocene  rhinoceros  are  fine,  very  much 
superior  to  those  of  his  present-day  descendant.  The 
sawtooth  tiger  and  cave  bear  took  little  chance  out  of  him. 
He  somehow  so  managed  things,  that  while  they  disap- 
peared he  survived  to  see  the  end  of  his  redoubtable  an- 
tagonists. Then  gradually  life  must  have  become  too 
easy  for  him.  He  was  big  and  burly  and  well  armed; 
other  animals  kept  out  of  his  way.  The  inevitable  con- 
sequences ensued.  Competition  keen  and  fierce  had  kept 
him  up.  The  struggle  for  existence  had  made  him  the 
formidable,  brainy  beast  that  he  was.  When  the  struggle 
was  over  and  his  brain  was  no  longer  put  to  its  best  use, 
he  began,  like  poor  Dean  Swift,  "to  die  atop/'  The 
African  fodder  is  as  good  as  of  yore.  His  hide  is  as  thick, 


320  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

his  horn  as  sharp,  everything  keeps  out  of  his  way,  so 
he  lives  on,  a  surly,  ill-natured,  dangerous,  and  quite 
useless  life;  occupying  ground  that  more  useful  and 
beautiful  things  need.  Surely  a  striking  illustration,  in 
the  animal  world,  of  that  universal  truth  we  are  so  prone 
to  forget:  that  easy  times  do  not  always  make  for  real 
usefulness  or  greatness. 

Only  the  other  day  my  friend  the  missionary,  Mr. 
Shauffaker,  very  nearly  lost  his  life  in  an  encounter  with 
a  rhino.  He  is  preeminently  a  man  of  peace,  and  gen- 
erally rides,  more  often  walks,  on  his  way  unarmed.  On 
this  occasion  he  borrowed  a  mule  from  another  mission- 
ary, for  the  road  he  must  take  was  a  long  one.  As  he 
was  passing  through  some  thickish  brush  he  was,  with 
out  warning,  incontinently  charged  by  a  rhino.  Such 
an  onslaught  is  usually  made  with  exceeding  swiftness,  and 
though  his  mule  swerved  for  its  life,  the  cruel  horns  pinned 
him.  Mr.  Shauffaker  is  a  young  and  very  active  man. 
He  threw  himself  off  and  darted  behind  a  friendly  bush, 
but  all  in  vain.  The  furious  beast  crashed  through  the 
dense  shrubbery,  carrying  everything  before  him,  and 
when  my  friend  came  to  himself,  for  he  was  partly  stunned, 
he  held  in  his  hand  a  small  remnant  of  his  sun  umbrella, 
while  a  cloud  of  dust  and  trailing  brush  and  the  rest  of 
the  umbrella  decorating  his  horn  showed  where  the  rhino 
was  still  furiously  charging  away. 

During  the  night  rhino  seldom  troubled  the  camp. 
But  Mr.  Percivale,  one  of  the  game  wardens  appointed 
by  the  British  East  African  Government,  told  me  of  an 
extraordinary  escape  that  he  had  lately  had.  He  had 
risen  about  two  in  the  morning,  leaving  his  tent  and  his 
companion  who  was  sleeping  in  it,  for  a  few  moments. 
Rhino  had  not  been  common  in  the  neighbourhood  for 
some  time.  Suddenly  in  the  pitchy  blackness,  for  there 
was  no  moon,  a  dark  animal  rushed  by  him.  There 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY     321 

was  a  crash,  down  went  the  tent;  then  another  crash, 
followed  by  loud  cries  from  his  men.  He  rushed  back 
to  find  his  friend  crawling  out  unhurt  from  the  wreckage, 
all  bespattered  with  jam.  He  was  scarcely  awake,  and 
quite  at  a  loss  to  know  what  had  happened.  "Is  it  a 
tornado?'*  said  he.  Mr.  Percivale's  bed,  from  which 
he  had  risen  but  a  moment  before,  was  smashed  to  atoms. 
A  tin  of  jam,  crushed  by  the  great  beast's  foot,  had  ex- 
ploded like  a  bomb  shell,  spattering  jam  over  everything. 
He  called  to  his  men  and  was  answered  by  groans.  One 
of  them  was  badly  trampled,  and  another  bundled  up  in 
his  little  tent  had  been  carried  bodily  off  for  twenty  yards. 
The  rhino's  horn  had  cut  a  deep  gash  in  the  man's  forehead, 
otherwise  he  was  unhurt. 

I  have  known  of  a  rhino  at  night  taking  both  sides 
of  a  Massai  munyata  in  full  charge,  and  scattering  men, 
women,  children  and  cattle  right  and  left  like  a  swarm 
of  angry  bees.  But  these  are  the  only  instances  in  which 
I  have  heard  of  a  night  attack  by  them.  Were  such 
things  common,  sefari  life  would  be  much  less  pleasant 
than  it  is,  for  neither  their  bomas  nor  campfires  would 
prove  any  protection. 

When  I  was  near  Fort  Hall  three  years  ago,  a  Gov- 
ernment surveyor  was  run  down  by  a  rhino,  and  so  badly 
trampled  and  horned  that  he  died  in  two  days.  He  had 
been  warned  not  to  go  unarmed,  but  thought  the  chances 
of  meeting  a  dangerous  beast  so  slight  that  he  could 
dispense  with  the  bother  of  a  rifle! 

I  may  as  well  here  tell  my  own  experiences  with  the 
rhino.  I  shot  the  first  two  rhino  I  came  across;  they 
carried  fairly  good  horns,  and  I  shot  them  without  any 
trouble.  One  bullet  was  enough  for  each,  and  each  fell 
to  a  chest  shot  rather  low  down  and  full  in  front;  a  sure 
place  to  kill,  I  found  it,  though  it  is  not  usually  counted  so. 
Hit  here  by  a  solid  .450  Cordite  rifle,  they  wheeled  at  right 


322  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

angles,  ran  some  twenty  or  thirty  yards,  and  fell  with  a 
sharp  squeaking  cry,  quite  dead.  After  these  two,  I  was 
far  more  anxious  to  get  a  photograph  of  rhino  than  to 
shoot  them  and  spent  much  time  and  ran  some  risk,  in 
unavailing  efforts.  The  bush  was  too  thick,  the  light  too 
bad,  or  the  rhino  stamped  and  snorted  so  when  I  got 
nearly  within  photographing  distance  (you  cannot  do 
much  with  a  kodak  at  more  than  fifteen  yards)  that  I  had 
to  keep  handing  my  camera  to  my  nervous  gunbearer 
and  grasping  my  rifle. 

In  this  way  I  find  I  have  approached  close  to  more 
than  fifty  and  never  had  actual  trouble  with  any  of  them 
till  a  few  days  ago. 

Now,  the  danger  of  the  rhino  is  twofold.  In  the  first 
place,  you  are  apt  to  stumble  on  him  most  unexpectedly. 
He  makes  very  little  noise  when  he  feeds,  and  moves  his 
unwieldy  body  with  unaccountably  little  crackling  of 
bush,  even  in  places  where  you  find  it  impossible  to  walk 
noiselessly.  I  have  often  stood  silently  and  watched  him 
feeding  amid  thorns  that  were  dry  and  brittle,  and  over 
ground  thickly  covered  with  fallen  twigs.  He  would  go 
about  his  business  with  a  silence  that  was  almost  uncanny — • 
Listen  as  I  would,  scarcely  a  sound  betrayed  him,  yet 
there  he  was  before  my  eyes,  not  forty  yards  away. 

In  the  second  place,  if  you  do  surprise  him  at  close 
quarters,  it  is  impossible  to  say  what  he  may  do.  He  may 
snort  and  rush  away,  or  he  may  rush  away  as  though 
escape  was  his  one  aim  and  object,  and  as  suddenly  turn 
right  around  and  charge  over  men  and  baggage,  carrying 
ruin  and  consternation  in  his  train;  or  he  may  charge  head 
on  without  one  instant's  hesitation.  The  smell  of  many 
animals  distinctly  indicates  their  near  presence.  A  herd 
of  wapiti  or  kongoni  can  be  smelt  at  several  hundred 
yards  distance  in  still  warm  weather.  A  band  of  lions  are 
unmistakable  when  you  get  close  to  them  in  the  long  grass. 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY     323 

buffalo,  too,  have  a  penetrating  odour.  But  I  have  never 
been  able  to  detect  a  rhino  in  this  way,  though  I  have 
often  stood  for  several  minutes  within  a  few  yards  of  them. 

Bulky  as  he  is,  on  a  plain  studded  with  ant  hills,  it  is 
very  hard  to  pick  him  out,  since  his  brown  bulk  is  just 
like  an  ant  hill.  If  he  is  taking  his  siesta,  it  is  under  the 
deep  shadow  of  a  tree,  and  in  the  glow  of  sunlight  you 
may  pass  quite  near  him  and  see  nothing.  Whereas  if 
he  is  where  he  loves  above  all  to  be:  in  dense  thorn  or 
cactus  scrub,  he  is  absolutely  invisible  till  you  are  within 
a  few  yards  or  even  feet.  It  is  surprising  how  often  you 
find  yourself  unexpectedly  quite  close  to  rhino. 

I  had  stalked  up  to  so  many  during  my  previous  ten 
months'  hunting,  and  had  so  unvaryingly  found  them 
retreat  that  I  began  to  think  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a 
really  vicious  member  of  the  family  left.  I  was  destined, 
however,  to  be  abundantly  convinced  that  on  occasion 
they  are  extremely  dangerous.  I  was  trailing  a  buffalo 
bull  on  the  Guasi  Nyiro  of  the  north  quite  near  the  little 
canon  I  have  tried  to  describe.  It  was  an  excellent  game 
country.  Oryx  abounded,  there  were  several  small  bands 
of  buffalo  and  rhino  were  far  too  numerous  to  be  pleasant. 
Cactus  and  thorn  scrub  covered  densely  the  steep  rocky 
hills  rising  sharply  from  the  beautiful  river  and  glades, 
green  and  partly  open,  ran  between  their  bases.  The  fresh 
spoor  we  were  following  led  us  for  a  mile  or  more  up  and 
down  this  woody  country,  and  then  turned  up  one  of  the 
steepest  hill  sides,  where  the  brush  was  quite  impenetrable. 
I  and  my  gunbearers  had  crawled  silently  as  we  could 
some  two  hundred  yards  into  the  tearing,  cutting  jungle 
and  I  was  on  the  point  of  saying  we  had  best  go  out,  as 
in  such  a  place  nothing  could  be  done,  when  through  the 
black  wall  of  herbage  to  our  right  came  the  sharp  whistling 
snort  of  a  rhino.  We  stood  stock  still,  and  I  fortunately 
was  able  to  stand  upright  just  there,  and  clear  very  quietly 


324  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

the  trailing  creepers  from  my  arms  and  rifle.  Looking 
hard  where  the  sound  had  come  from,  I  was  presently 
able  to  make  out  a  small  patch  of  brown  skin,  not  longer 
than  my  hand,  about  ten  yards  away.  I  was  naturally 
most  anxious  not  to  shoot.  The  noise  would  destroy 
my  chances  of  coming  on  any  buffalo  thereabout,  and 
besides,  this  was  no  place  to  shoot  anything,  much  less  a 
bush  rhino,  whose  horn  was  almost  certain  to  be  a  poor 
one.  So  we  stood  and  waited,  hoping  that  our  most  un- 
welcome neighbour  would  move  away.  He  stood  as  silent 
as  we  did.  Then  very  slowly  I  tried  to  retreat.  All  in 
vain,  we  were  so  near  he  must  have  seen  us  clearly.  He 
wheeled  with  a  crash,  and  snorting  loudly  rushed  into  us. 
I  could  see  nothing  to  shoot  at  till  his  horn  was  within  a 
few  yards  of  the  man  next  to  me  on  my  left.  Now  Dooda, 
my  Somali,  was  a  brave  man  enough,  but  in  the  presence 
of  rhino  or  lion  he  became  very  much  excited.  He  now 
fell  back  so  violently  against  my  left  shoulder  that  as  I 
threw  him  off,  his  rifle  cut  my  hand  and  I  almost  fell. 
Had  I  done  so  nothing  could  have  saved  us  all  three  from 
being  gored  and  trampled  on.  As  I  straightened  up  I 
saw  the  broad  shoulder  and  lowered  horn  almost  on  us. 
I  fired  the  right  barrel  of  my  .450  into  the  spine,  at  a  dis- 
tance (afterward  measured)  of  about  ten  feet.  And  the 
rhino  fell,  an  inert  mass,  without  a  groan  or  a  kick.  I  had 
just  time  behind  the  flash  of  my  right  barrel,  to  see  a 
second  great  head  and  shoulder  following  the  first.  In- 
deed, so  close  was  the  second  rush  on  the  first  that  I  could 
barely  pull  my  left  trigger  quickly  enough.  Had  I  been 
using  a  black  powder  cartridge  I  could  not  have  seen  the 
second  beast  till  he  was  upon  me.  Fortunately  the  almost 
unaimed  shot  took  him  in  the  same  place  as  his  fellow 
and  he  too  collapsed.  The  charge  of  these  two  furious 
animals  was  so  nearly  simultaneous  that  my  gunbearer, 
Dooda,  had  no  idea  that  there  were  two,  but  fancied  I  had 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY     325 

shot  twice  into  the  one  animal.  When  we  stepped  forward 
on  top  of  two  dead  rhino,  he  leaped  backward,  thinking 
we  had  another  untouched  animal  before  us.  My  Brownie, 
cool  as  ever,  had  seen  our  second  danger  and  had  shot 
at  the  same  moment  as  myself.  He  made  a  good  shot 
for  him,  for  he  had  actually  scored  in  the  fleshy  part  of 
the  hind  leg,  a  wound  he  took  care  to  point  out  to  me 
with  pride,  as  I  always  chaffed  him  about  not  being  able  to 
hit  anything. 

Such  is  the  rhino  in  East  Africa.  Nineteen  times  out 
of  twenty,  even  in  dense  bush,  he  will  rush  away  from  you. 
But,  as  Bernard  Shaw's  play  says,  "you  never  can  tell." 
And  if  as  in  this  case  there  are  two  of  them  and  they  charge 
suddenly  home,  it  is  a  very  serious  matter  indeed.  Two 
charging  together  have  killed  or  maimed  many  a  good 
man.  When  the  bush  is  dense,  when  the  little  rhino 
birds  fly  up  a  few  yards  in  front,  it  is  best  to  go  round  or 
hunt  somewhere  else.  I  know  that  I  shall  next  time. 

Though  the  story  I  have  just  told  proves  conclusively 
enough  that  rhino  in  thick  brush  can  at  times  be  most 
dangerous,  it  by  no  means  follows  that  all  the  yarns  one 
constantly  hears  of  charging  rhino  are  true.  The  trouble 
is  that  most  men  when  they  shoot  at  a  rhino,  follow  up 
their  first  shot  with  a  stream  of  bullets.  Indeed,  after 
the  first  shot  is  fired,  there  is  a  good  deal  of  excitement 
and  confusion.  It  is  the  same  story  with  elephant  and 
with  lion.  I  think  this  common  plan  is  a  bad  one.  If 
the  first  shot  is,  as  it  should  be,  carefully  planted  in  a  vital 
place,  there  is  no  need  to  fire  any  more.  Indeed,  a  constant 
fire  draws  the  animal's  attention  to  where  you  are.  If, 
on  the  other  hand,  you  are  sitting  down  quietly  on  the 
ground,  the  very  great  probability  is  that,  confused  and 
stunned  by  the  impact  of  a  modern  bullet,  your  game 
has  no  idea  where  you  are.  He  may  rush  toward  you, 
though  the  chances  are  very  many  to  one  that  he  will  not. 


326  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

If  he  should  rush  toward  you  he  is  almost  sure  to  pass 
you  by  at  very  close  range.  And  if  it  is  necessary  to  fire 
again,  you  can  do  so  without  rising  or  moving,  and  with 
deadly  effect.  Whereas,  a  succession  of  bullets  fired  at 
the  head  and  shoulders  of  a  charging  beast  generally  do 
little  damage.  If  he  is  coming  right  on,  let  him  come. 
And  at  a  few  yards  the  heavy  bullet  will  stop,  turn  or  kill 
him.  This  applies  to  elephant  and  rhino.  Lion  and 
buffalo  when  once  they  have  made  up  their  mind  to  charge 
keep  coming  on  till  killed.  As  they  come  toward  you, 
animals  often  look  as  though  they  were  coming  right  on 
when  really  they  are  not  doing  so.  I  repeat  what  I  said 
before:  When  possible,  receive  dangerous  game  sitting 
down.  Your  doing  so  gives  your  men  confidence  and 
there  will  then  be  no  wild  rifle  firing. 

I  cannot  insist  too  constantly  on  the  need  of  drilling 
the  gunbearers;  getting  to  know  them;  making  them 
understand  your  wishes,  your  own  peculiar  way  of  hand- 
ling your  rifle  and  selecting  your  cartridges.  I  have 
looked  most  painstakingly  into  the  details  of  those  unfort- 
unate incidents,  when  wounds  or  death  have  been  inflicted 
by  the  wild  beast.  I  can  assert  that  in  the  great  majority 
of  cases  lack  of  care  of  rifles,  undisciplined  gunbearers, 
or  some  such  cause,  has  been  uppermost  in  bringing  about 
the  calamity. 

Lord was   charged,   not  far  from  Nairobi,   by  a 

lion   he    had    ridden.     Lady was   on    horseback   not 

a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  and  was  a  horror-stricken  spec- 
tator of  what  came  near  being  a  tragedy.  Lord 

was  a  poor  shot.  The  lion  came  slowly  at  first,  as  they 
generally  do,  out  of  the  grass.  Lord ,  with  a  gun- 
bearer  on  either  side  of  him,  sat  down  to  kill  him.  He 
fired  at  about  sixty  yards'  range  and  only  scratched  him. 
Then  the  excited  Somali  on  either  side  fired  and,  of  course, 
missed.  This  maddened  the  lion  more  and  he  rushed 


A  RIDE  THROUGH  RHINO  COUNTRY     327 

in.     Lord turned  first  to  one  then  to  another  of  these 

much  vaunted  and  useless  men  to  find  —  empty  guns!!! 
The  lion  was  upon  them.  Lord  -  -  fell,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  forward  on  his  face.  The  lion  seized  one  gun- 
bearer  and  shook  him.  Then  strode  across  the  fallen 

body  of  Lord and   seized   the   second   man.     As   he 

did  so  the  bloody  spume  from  his  mouth  was  streaked 

all  over  Lord 's  back.     All  three,  to  Lady 's  terror, 

lay  prone,  the  lion  standing  over  them.     A  man  who  was 

with  Lady told  me  it  was  the  worst  thing  he  ever 

saw.  The  great  beast  then  walked  quietly  away,  unmo- 
lested! That  was  a  case  where  bad  shooting  and  undis- 
ciplined gunbearers  combined  invited  a  tragedy. 

The  discipline  of  the  gunbearer  is  a  matter  of  life  and 
death.  I  may  be  held  guilty  of  giving  brutal  advice  to 
sportsmen,  but  I  feel  sure  that  those  who  know  what 
dangerous  game  shooting  is,  will  acquit  me  of  brutality. 
I  advise  you  to  have  long  talks  and  most  clear  explana- 
tions with  the  men  who  must  accompany  you  into  danger 
after  wounded  game.  Having  made  your  meaning  per- 
fectly plain,  if  your  gunbearer  disobeys  you,  there  and 
then  knock  him  down  with  such  a  blow  as  he  is  likely 
never  to  forget.  It  may  save  your  life  and  his.  And  do 
not  take  Somali  gunbearers  with  you  unless  you  can  help 
it.  The  Wakamba  are  in  every  way  superior.  Some 
Swahili  that  are  first-class  can  be  secured.  A  Somali, 
though  brave,  gets  uncontrollably  excited  and  is  mon- 
strously conceited,  as  a  usual  thing,  to  boot.  He  wants 
different  food  from  the  other  men.  Tea,  ghee,  halva  - 
rice,  sugar.  He  seldom  speaks  the  truth  and  he  bullies 
the  porters  and  makes  much  trouble  in  the  sefari.  And 
there  is  one  thing  more  should  be  said.  The  outrageous 
prices  that  the  Somali  demand  and  receive  are  apt  to  have 
a  most  demoralizing  effect  on  your  other  men. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  COUNTRY 

IF  I  may  borrow  an  illustration  from  old  rowing  days, 
the  Government  of  the  Protectorate  reminds  me  of 
a  strong  but  ragged  eight-oar  crew.  Individually  they 
are  a  fair  lot,  but  stroke  does  not  know  his  own  mind  and 
looks  a  good  deal  out  of  the  boat,  so  the  men  behind  him 
cannot  get  together.  Naturally  the  boat  rolls  and  has 
not  much  pace  on  and  the  men  growl  at  each  other.  Worst 
of  all,  the  coach  is  too  far  away  to  see  properly  the  crew's 
work,  yet  is  constantly  shouting  contradictory  orders 
to  stroke,  whose  one  aim  seems  not  to  be  to  win  a  race  so 
much  as  to  avoid  an  upset.  The  crew,  too,  has  a  pretty 
good  German  boat  to  race  against. 

The  simple  truth  is  this  wonderfully  promising  land 
has  been  ruled  and  is  still  ruled  after  no  settled  policy. 
Philanthropists  tried  their  hands,  diplomats  and  soldiers 
all  had  their  turn,  but  a  consistent  policy  based  on  a  study 
of  the  country,  its  native  populations  and  its  resources 
there  never  has  been.  One  man  tries  one  thing,  he  is 
recalled  and  his  opponent  given  an  innings.  Commis- 
sioners and  acting  commissioners  have  been  allowed  to 
do  what  they  wanted,  whether  it  was  or  whether  it  was 
not  consistent  with  the  acts  of  their  predecessors.  No 
one,  I  think,  has  more  wisely  and  temperately  written 
a  history  of  British  rule  in  Uganda  and  East  Africa 
than  J.  W.  Gregory  in  his  quite  admirably  lucid  volume, 
"The  Foundation  of  British  East  Africa"  (page  243). 
I  did  not  see  Professor  Gregory's  book  until  I  had 
written  this  chapter,  but  his  summing  up  of  the  situa- 

328 


THE  COUNTRY 

tion  seems  so  true  that  I  quote  his  explanation  of  the 
present  weakness  of  the  Government,  and  the  chief  causes 
of  native  and  immigrant  discontent. 

"British  East  Africa  has  had  persistent  ill  luck.  Pes- 
tilence, drought  and  famine  are  enemies  that  in  a  com- 
paratively unknown  land  can  neither  be  foreseen  nor 
controlled,  and  they  have  devastated  the  country  and 
engendered  widespread  misery  and  a  spirit  of  unrest  that 
has  caused  especial  irritation  against  civilized  restraint. 

"But  the  blame  for  the  confusion  is  not  all  extra  human. 
The  clumsiness  of  men,  and  the  conservatism  of  government 
systems  have  been  only  too  powerful  for  evil.  The  main 
cause  of  disaster  in  the  rule  of  the  Foreign  Office  (at 
present  the  Colonial  Office  has  taken  over  the  Protectorate) 
as  in  that  of  its  predecessor,  the  British  East  African  Co., 
has  been  the  lack  of  a  policy  based  on  a  scientific  knowledge 
of  the  country  and  its  people,  framed  in  accordance  with 
the  views  of  the  local  authorities  as  to  what  is  practically 
and  economically  possible,  and  consistently  and  con- 
tinuously carried  out,  even  despite  the  prejudices  of  philan- 
thropists at  home  and  the  ambitions  of  military  officials 
abroad. 

"The  primary  need  in  equatorial  Africa  is  of  a  special 
service  of  men  appointed  by  open  competition.  According 
to  the  present  system,  the  selection  of  men  is  necessarily 
somewhat  haphazard.  A  man  is  sent  for  a  few  years' 
work  to  East  Africa,  thence  he  is  promoted  to  act  as  consul 
at  a  Mediterranean  watering-place  or  an  American  port. 
As  soon  as  a  man  begins  to  understand  the  natives  and 
to  speak  their  language,  he  may  be  and  often  is  transferred. 
Similarly  a  young  official  in  British  East  Africa  may  at 
any  time  have  placed  over  his  head  a  man  who  knows 
nothing  of  Africa  and  African  methods,  and  who  may  do 
serious  mischief  before  he  learns  to  take  advice  from  his 
more  experienced  juniors." 


330  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Trenchant  and  true  as  this  criticism  is,  it  at  once  calls 
forth  a  counter  criticism.  If  this  is  so,  if  such  obviously 
wise  and  necessary  courses  have  been  habitually  neglected, 
how  do  you  account  for  the  equally  obvious  advance  the 
Protectorate  has  made  ?  How  is  it  that  in  spite  of  stupid, 
and  worse  than  stupid,  muddling  in  Uganda,  the  bloody 
buccaneering  policy  that  was  allowed  to  continue  there 
for  a  time,  in  spite  of  the  folly  and  injustice  that  drove  the 
best  quality  of  East  Coast  natives  to  leave  the  country  and 
settle  after  the  Mazuri  Rebellion  (1895)  in  German  ter- 
ritory —  how  is  it  that  the  country  can  even  hold  its  own  ? 
There  is  just  one  answer  to  this  and  only  one.  It  is  not 
that  the  Colonial  Office  has,  so  far  at  least,  greatly  improved 
on  the  management  of  its  predecessor,  the  Foreign  Office; 
it  is  not  that  in  the  service  of  the  Protectorate  the  worth 
and  work  of  the  officer  is  now  always  acknowledged  and 
he  no  longer  has  appointed  over  his  head  "the  man  with 
the  pull,"  it  ought  to  be  so,  but  as  yet  it  is  not  so.  But 
it  is  just  this:  that  the  ordinary  young  Englishman, 
employed  by  his  country  to  do  one  of  her  difficult  and 
thankless  jobs  in  a  distant  land  with  but  little  to  reward  him 
and  much  to  discourage  him,  is  the  most  honest,  conscientious 
and  successful  civil  servant  in  the  world.  In  British  East 
Africa  he  still  comes  out  to  a  job  too  often  unprepared, 
or  but  partially  prepared,  for  it,  having  had  scarcely  a 
rudimentary  education  fitting  him  for  it.  He  scarcely 
ever  knows  anything  of  the  language  when  he  lands.  He 
is  put  often  into  positions  where  such  knowledge  should 
be  a  "sine  qua  non."  He,  of  course,  makes  many  mistakes. 
I  have  often  seen  him  on  the  magistrate's  bench  or  in  his 
working  room  at  an  outlying  Government  Boma,  struggling 
with  his  Swahili  dictionary,  or  perspiring  and  patient 
while  some  native  evidence  slowly  trickles  its  way  through 
the  confused  and  twisted  channels  of  two  native  interpreters, 
Kikuyu  into  Swahili,  Swahili  into  English,  and  so  back 


THE  COUNTRY  33I 

again.  He  is  moved  about  from  one  post  to  another,  trans- 
ferred from  a  tribe  he  is  just  beginning  to  understand,  and 
which  on  its  part  is  just  beginning  to  understand  and  trust 
him  from  a  great  district,  that  at  the  cost  of  real  privation  and 
sometimes  sickness  he  has  travelled  over,  to  a  tribe  totally 
different  in  usages  and  language  which  he  knows  nothing 
about  and  to  a  new  district,  as  unknown  to  him  as  the 
Sahara.  His  hard-won  knowledge  is  all  thrown  away, 
and  a  new  man,  knowing  nothing  of  his  people,  takes  his 
job,  to  continue  or  not,  as  the  case  may  be,  those  plans  and 
policies  that  he  and  he  alone  had  thought  out  and  begun  to 
put  into  operation.  Still,  somehow  he  does  well.  He  has 
poor  and  uncertain  support  from  Nairobi,  and  is  often 
obliged  to  live  in  a  climate  that  saps  his  health.  He  is 
poorly  paid,  he  is  wretchedly  pensioned.  Yet  in  a  great 
majority  of  cases  he  is  and  does  what  an  English  gentleman 
is  expected  to  be  and  do,  for  he  conies  from  that  recruiting 
ground  for  men  of  worth,  the  middle  classes  of  England. 

The  English  civil  servant  in  British  East  Africa,  as 
everywhere  else  in  the  world,  is  a  clean,  honest,  capable 
gentleman.  He  is  the  class  of  man  that  England  above  all 
the  other  nations  has  succeeded  in  rearing  and  binding  to  her 
service.  A  man,  that  under  circumstances  of  loneliness,  dis- 
heartenment  and  danger  has  done  more  than  any  other  class, 
I  don't  even  except  the  soldier,  to  hold  unbroken,  in  spite  of 
its  vast  extension,  what  Kipling  in  an  immortal  verse  has 
called  her  "far-flung  battle  line." 

He  should  be  better  paid,  he  should  be  better  pensioned, 
he  should  be  better  supported  at  his  outpost.  "  Ah,  there  is 
no  money,"  "There  are  limits  to  the  English  taxpayers' 
capacity  to  pay  up  margins  of  expenditure  for  unprofitable 
colonies."  Admitted!  But  one  wrong  is  done  him  which 
might  be  quickly  righted  without  the  cost  of  an  extra  sover- 
eign. He  should  be  listened  to,  and  he  is  not.  His  reports 
are  pigeon-holed  when  he  is  abroad,  and  when  he  comes 


332  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

home  at  last,  a  man  who  has  done  things,  a  man  who  knows, 
"whose  dearly  bought  knowledge  is  invaluable,  he  and  it  go 
to  the  great  waste-paper  basket  of  the  nation,  He  is  not 
now,  and  never  has  been,  called  to  the  counsels  of  those  who, 
without  one  fraction  of  his  experience,  direct  the  Colonial 
policy  of  the  country. 

There  surely  never  was  perpetrated  by  any  sensible 
people  such  a  purposeless,  thankless,  criminal  waste.  Oh, 
why  not  honour  in  the  eyes  of  the  whole  nation  they  have 
served  so  well,  some  representatives  at  least,  of  this  fine  civil 
servant  class  ?  Why  not  give  the  ablest  of  them  some  unpaid 
advisory,  but  none  the  less  honourable,  place,  in  the  Colonial 
administration  of  the  Empire,  so  honouring  in  the  eyes  of 
the  world  men  truly  deserving  of  honour. 

The  English  taxpayer  has  to-day  a  hard  time  of  it.  An 
immense  fleet,  an  immense  old-age  pension  bill,  yet  to  be 
paid  for;  how  can  he  be  expected  to  put  his  hand  deeply  in 
his  pocket  at  the  behests  of  a  little  almost  unknown  African 
•colony.  Moreover,  the  very  name  "African"  is  just  now 
very  tiresome  to  his  ears.  He  has  scarcely  met  the  mon- 
strous expenses  of  the  Boer  war  (nearly  $300,000,000). 
No,  nor  has  he  or  his  rulers  as  far  as  a  sympathetic  observer 
can  see,  learned  its  costly  lesson,  that  war  came,  that  treasure 
and  blood  were  poured  forth,  just  because  England  never 
took  the  trouble  to  have  and  to  maintain  one  wise,  righteous, 
:settled  policy  for  the  country.  Rather  she  [preferred,  or 
allowed  her  rulers  to  prefer,  her  traditional  non-policy  of 
"muddle  through  somehow,"  one  Government  doing  and 
promising  one  thing,  the  next  undoing  and  taking  back  the 
work  and  promises  of  its  predecessors.  The  result  was  a 
war  that  need  never  have  been.  The  further  result  lying  in 
the  future,  is  nothing  less  than  the  loss,  to  the  English  speak- 
ing race,  of  South  Africa. 

One  can  understand  the  policy  that  allowed  the  Boers  to 
build  up,  unopposed,  a  Government  that  was  intent  on  driv- 


THE  COUNTRY  333, 

ing  from  out  the  bounds  of  its  control,  Englishmen  and  things 
English.  One  can  understand  a  policy  that  poured  forth 
blood  and  treasure  like  water,  to  save  South  Africa  for  the 
Empire,  but  in  the  days  coming  who  will  be  able  to  explain 
or  defend  to  intelligent  Englishmen  that  policy  of  shilly- 
shally that  first  let  the  Boers  have  their  own  way  till  war  was 
inevitable,  then  called  all  her  sons  around  her,  and  with  their 
aid,  beat  her  enemy  to  the  dust;  and  then,  before  the  hurts  of 
battle  were  healed,  handed  back  the  land  for  which  she  and 
they  had  paid  so  new  and  heavy  a  price,  to  those  very  uncon- 
verted forces  of  ignorance,  prejudice  and  race  hatred,  from 
which,  all  blood  drenched,  she  had  delivered  it.  Great 
surely  is  the  policy  of  "muddling  through"!  and  that  is  the 
one  persistent  policy  pursued  in  the  poor  little  Protectorate. 

The  Governor  sits  in  council  at  regular  seasons.  The 
council's  supposed  value  lies  in  its  supposed  capacity  to 
represent  the  needs  and  wishes  of  the  Protectorate.  It 
suggests  local  laws  and  regulations,  which  are,  [after  dis- 
cussion, for  warded  to  Downing  Street.  If  approved 
there,  they  are  printed  in  the  Protectorate  Gazette  and 
become  operative. 

There  are  six  provincial  commissioners  ruling  the  six  dis- 
tricts into  which  British  East  Africa  is  divided.  These  men 
know  the  country  or  are  at  least  supposed  to  know  it  better 
than  all  others,  for  they  are  sent  to  govern  it  by  aid  of  dis- 
trict commissioners  who  are  under  their  orders.  Not  one  of 
these  six  has  a  seat  on  the  council.  Nor  on  the  council  can 
any  official  retain  office  who  votes  contrary  to  the  executive. 
So  the  council  is  neither  legislative  nor  eonciliar.  It  does  not 
fairly  represent  anything,  even  officialdom.  It  is  a  sort  of 
restricted  debating  society,  denied  even  the  privilege  of 
recording  by  vote  its  convictions.  It  satisfies  no  one  in 
the  country  and  does  not  seemingly  exercise  much  influence 
outside  it. 

It  has  no  settled  policy  of  administration.     It  is  not  so 


334  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

constituted  as  to  be  able  to  formulate  one.  Laws  are  pro- 
mulgated from  time  to  time  but  those  most  deeply  affected 
by  them  have  not  even  had  a  consulting  voice  as  to  what  they 
shall  be,  or  how  they  are  to  be  put  in  operation. 

On  a  lesser  scale  the  shilly-shally  "  policy  of  muddle,'* 
that  has  proved  so  costly  and  disastrous  in  South  Africa,  is 
being  re-enacted  all  over  again  in  the  Protectorate,  with,  be 
it  remembered,  very  similar  elements  to  work  on,  the  un- 
satisfied settler  and  the  ignorant,  tenacious  Boer. 

One  thing  seems  evident  and  that  is,  the  need  of  a  settled 
policy  for  the  country.  The  men  who  know  its  needs,  who 
have  studied  and  ruled  its  natives,  who  have  scientifically 
examined  its  agricultural,  mineral  and  forest  resources 
should  surely  be  called  together  to  formulate  such  a  policy; 
and  this  being  done,  British  East  Africa  should  be  placed  un- 
der the  rule  of  a  really  efficient  and  experienced  Colonial 
governor,  who  with  the  aid  of  trained  civil  officers  should  be 
permitted  and  encouraged  to  go  ahead  with  the  development 
of  the  country  and  the  education  of  the  native  without  being 
unduly  hampered  by  the  interference  of  either  the  Colonial 
office  or  ignorant,  if  well-wishing,  agitators  in  the  House  of 
Commons  or  in  the  missionary  societies.  Shifting  about 
and  changing  of  men  and  politics  works  badly  everywhere, 
but  in  Africa  it  works  ruin  pure  and  simple.  England  may 
not  be  able  to  do  this,  she  may  not  even  wish  to  do  it;  if  she 
does  not  I  am  sure  that  all  who  know  the  country  will  agree 
with  me  when  I  say  she  is  bound  to  lose  it,  as  she  is  now  in 
a  fair  way  to  lose  South  Africa. 

The  next  question  that  naturally  arises  is  this:  Is  the 
Protectorate  worth  maintaining  at  such  a  cost  of  trouble  and 
treasure  ?  It  is  a  country  with  a  big  question  mark  after  it. 
It  is  not  a  land  of  one  problem  but  of  a  series  of  problems. 
Can  the  white  man  live  and  breed  there  in  health  and  pros- 
perity ?  Can  the  sudden  and  severe  calamities  that  have 
overtaken  the  agriculturist  and  the  herdsman  be  in  the 


THE  COUNTRY  335 

future,  by  science,  diminished  or  controlled  ?  Can  fever  and 
unknown  diseases  be  overcome  ?  Can  native  tribes  that  by 
long  custom  have  entrenched  themselves  in  habits  of  wander- 
ing and  idleness  be  so  educated,  so  firmly  and  wisely  ruled, 
that  these  predispositions  of  theirs  can  be  overcome  and 
that  they  shall  be  taught  to  work  with  and  under  the  white 
settler. 

Only  to  name  these,  and  they  are  but  a  few  of  the  African 
problems,  is  enough  to  indicate  the  gravity  of  the  situation. 

On  the  other  hand,  much  of  East  Africa  is  extraordin- 
arily fertile  if  Uganda  is  included  on  our  survey.  It  is 
impossible  at  present  to  state  what  immense  products  of 
food  and  raw  material  the  soil  can  yield.  Nowhere  has  it 
been  more  than  scratched  in  isolated  patches  here  and  there. 
If  the  food-producing  capacities  of  the  East,  of  India  and 
China  has  been  pretty  well  reached  already,  then  it  is  an 
asset  that  could  greatly  add  to  their  store.  Many  millions 
might  be  fed  by  grains  and  fruit  raised  in  that  rich  land  lying 
between  the  Nile  Valley  and  the  Eastern  sea.  It  would 
seem  that  from  an  agricultural  point  alone  the  country  is 
worth  holding.  If  it  is  to  be  held,  it  must  be  studied,  de- 
veloped, ruled.  A  beginning  is  being  made  in  the  first. 
Some  excellent  scientific  men  are  now  at  work  searching  into 
the  problems  presented  by  its  diseases  in  man  and  beast,  its 
capacities  for  producing  grain  and  fruit,  cotton,  fibre,  etc., 
etc.,  but  their  present  equipment  is  very  inadequate. 

As  to  its  development,  the  real  and  pressing  need  of  some 
real  policy  is  apparent.  There  has  as  yet  been  no  extensive 
survey  made  of  lands  opened  to  immigrants.  Immigration 
has  been  invited,  but  when  newcomers  arrive  nothing  is 
ready  for  them.  They  have  been  told  to  go  on  to  the  country 
and  look  out  locations  for  themselves.  When  at  last  these 
have  been  chosen,  they  find  their  intended  homesteads  lie 
within  some  native  or  government  reserve,  and  all  they  have 
done  has  to  be  done  over  again.  I  have  known  men  to  be 


336  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

kept  three  years  waiting  for  settlement,  three  years  after 
they  have  entered  their  claim. 

Then  the  terms  on  which  land  may  be  had  have  not  only 
been  altered  more  than  once,  but  are  subject  to  constant  and 
irritating  alteration.  First,  land  is  sold  outright  to  bona  fide 
settlers,  then  it  is  leased  for  ninety-nine  years  at  a  halfpenny 
an  acre,  then  for  thirty-three  or  twenty-three  years  at  a  penny. 
The  list  of  changes  is  a  long  one  and  more  and  more  to  follow. 
It  is  confessedly  difficult  to  attract  real  settlers  to  a  land  so  full 
of  problems  and  dangers,  and  at  so  great  a  distance  from 
English  homes  and  English  markets,  and  it  really  would 
seem  as  though  the  purpose  of  those  who  make  laws  was  to 
place  hindrances  in  the  path  of  actual  settlement  rather  than 
to  remove  them. 

As  to  the  education  of  those  in  the  country  or  coming  to 
it,  practically  nothing  whatever  has  been  done.  There  are 
as  yet  very  few  true  white  settlers.  As  I  have  said  in  an- 
other place  Englishmen  who  intend  making  their  real  home 
here  are  almost  non-existent.  Some  are  working  with  pluck 
and  perseverance,  some  are  beginning  to  make  a  little  money, 
but  just  so  soon  as  they  have  put  their  farms  in  order,  found 
a  crop  that  will  pay  them  well,  secured  native  labour  to  work  it, 
and  made  reasonably  sure  of  a  market,  they  will  pay  some 
head  man  to  carry  on  their  work  and,  taking  their  savings 
with  them,  they  will  go  home.  I  don't  think  it  fair  to  call 
such  men  settlers,  nor  do  I  think  it  likely  that  such  class  of 
men,  even  when  enterprising  and  industrious  as  they  often 
are,  will  be  able  in  the  future  to  hold  their  own  against  the 
Boer,  who,  if  less  intelligent  and  less  industrious,  sits  down  on 
the  land  and  raises  a  family.  The  Boer  will  need,  and  in  the 
interest  of  the  country  itself  should  have,  help  given  to  him  to 
educate  his  family.  Many  of  them  have  spoken  to  me  on 
the  subject.  There  are  in  the  Protectorate  Boers  and  Boers. 
There  are  already  some  intelligent,  progressive  men  who 
fully  appreciate,  as  they  believe  them,  the  great  possibilities 


THE  COUNTRY  337 

of  the  country.  They  deplore  the  gross  ignorance  of  some  of 
their  fellow  countrymen,  they  say  that  to  permit  the  children 
to  grow  up  as  Boer  children  often  do  is  to  entrench  ignorance 
and  disloyalty  in  the  land.  They  also  say  that  unless  the 
more  progressive  elements  among  themselves  are  helped  and 
encouraged  to  educate  the  children  on  the  farms,  the 
greater  part  of  the  young  will  grow  up  as  the  father,  knowing 
no  more,  asking  for  nothing  better. 

Let  the  authorities  offer  educational  help  now  and  they 
can  do  so  on  their  own  terms.  Let  them  neglect  to  do  so 
and  soon  they  will  find  the  Boer,  even  in  South  Africa,  asking 
to  have  the  Taal  (debased  Dutch)  and  not  English  taught, 
and  anyone  can  realize  what  that  will  mean. 

It  might  be  well  worth  while  to  make  at  least  an  experi- 
ment with  a  totally  different  sort  of  immigrant.  The  small 
farmer,  the  man  who  would  himself  till  the  ground  he  occu- 
pied up  to  the  present  time  has  not  even  been  invited  to 
the  country.  All  farms  allotted  have  been  given  on  a  scale 
which  made  native  labour  a  necessity  to  those  occupying 
them.  At  first  these  grants  were  of  10,000  acres  and  over. 
Now  they  are  4,000.  The  small  farmer  could  not  profit- 
ably make  use  of  more  than  two  or  three  hundred  acres 
at  most.  Such  an  experiment  should  have  good  chance 
of  success.  Good  land  near  the  railroad  can  be  found,  and 
settlers  grouped  on  it;  as  the  Boers  are  now  grouping 
themselves,  this  would  soon  be  a  self-supporting  com- 
munity. 

The  large  part  of  the  Protectorate  so  far  as  one  can  judge 
can  never  be  anything  but  a  planters'  country.  I  mean 
by  that  a  land  in  which  the  white  man  is  the  overseer  of 
the  black  man's  labour.  Where  cotton,  fibre,  rubber,  and 
other  tropical  plants  can  be  successfully  raised  by  labour 
so  cheap  that  it  would  enable  the  planter  to  compete  in 
the  world's  market  with  other  producers  who  were  geo- 
graphically more  favourably  situated  than  he,  till  such 


338  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

time  as  the  development  of  the  great  water  powers  of 
the  country  enable  East  Africa  to  manufacture  her  own 
raw  products,  along  the  great  water  courses  and  by  the 
coast  line.  There  are  millions  of  acres  of  such  rich  land 
lying  at  present  under  brush  and  swamp,  superb  plan- 
tations they  would  make,  but  the  cost  of  reclamation  is 
at  present  prohibitory. 

As  I  have  pointed  out  in  these  notes  of  a  traveller, 
there  are  also  many  high  plateaus  where  it  seems  as  though 
the  white  farmer  could  work  all  day  and  where  two  crops 
a  year  could  be  raised.  In  Queensland,  a  far  hotter 
country,  such  work  is  now  being  carried  out  very  success- 
fully by  white  men,  and  in  the  northern  part  of  the  South 
American  continent,  there  are  communities  of  pure-blooded 
Spaniards  who  in  almost  the  same  latitude  and  in  an  even 
higher  altitude  are  thriving,  and  have  thriven,  for  two 
hundred  years. 

If  colonies  of  the  unemployed  could  be  directed  here, 
helped  and  educated  until  they  succeeded  in  taking  root, 
they  would  do  more  to  guarantee  and  perpetuate  English 
influence  and  rule  than  could  any  military  or  governmental 
occupation  (as  at  present  thought  of)  possibly  accomplish. 

Lastly  it  is  evident  that  the  Protectorate  needs  as  much 
as  anything  else,  a  firm  hand  at  the  helm.  All  within  it, 
black  and  white  alike,  must  obey  the  law  if  the  Protectorate 
is  to  prosper.  It  is  obvious  if  the  white  man  may  defy 
or  evade  law,  the  black  man  will  be  quick  to  observe  it. 

There  is  an  evil  tradition  in  East  Africa,  that  as  it  is 
a  black  man's  country,  and  the  whites  are  but  as  one  in 
a  thousand,  nothing  to  lower  their  prestige  can  be  tolerated. 
A  white  man  cannot  do  wrong,  a  white  man  should  not  be 
punished,  even  if  he  openly  defies  the  law.  (An  exception, 
and  a  good  one,  was  made  to  this  rule  lately  by  the  Nairobi 
officials;  I  am  glad  to  say  a  prominent  white  man,  who 
had  defied  the  law,  was  sent  to  prison.)  This  vicious 


THE  COUNTRY  339 

fallacy  should  receive  its  death  blow  at  the  hands  of  the 
ruling  executive,  while  unfortunately  it  has  too  often  there 
been  accepted  and  approved.  The  powers  that  be  are 
used  not  so  much  to  punish  as  to  shield  actual  lawlessness; 
of  incompetence  I  do  not  speak.  Law-breaking  officials 
must  be  shuffled  out  of  the  country,  the  aim  being  not  to 
vindicate  law  in  the  keen  eyes  of  the  native,  but  to  hush  up 
scandal,  to  get  bad  men  who  have  broken  the  law  out  of  the 
country,  to  get  them  out  as  quickly  as  can  be,  but  on  no 
account  to  punish  them.  In  German  land  a  white  man 
goes  to  prison  promptly. 

Englishmen  may  be  slow  to  believe  it,  but  this  policy 
is  in  actual  operation  to-day  and  it  is  as  foolish  and  as 
shortsighted  as  it  is  unmoral.  No  Government  any- 
where under  the  sun,  in  past  times  or  in  present,  gained 
anything  by  following  it,  and  it  is,  thank  God,  opposed 
to  all  Anglo-Saxon  history  and  tradition. 

The  education  of  the  native  tribes  is  the  immediate 
need  of  the  land.  When  I  speak  of  the  education  of 
the  native  I  am  far  indeed  from  wishing  to  imply  that 
the  wild  children  of  the  land  should  be  taught  and  put 
to  school.  I  use  the  word  in  its  widest  sense.  I  mean 
the  training,  the  helping,  the  compelling  of  the  native  to 
fit  himself  gradually  to  those  new  conditions  that  inevit- 
ably follow  the  white  man's  occupation  of  the  country. 
Justice,  common  justice  to  him,  demands  as  much  at 
the  white  mans*  hands. 

The  education  he  needs  can  only  be  given  him  when 
first  a  thorough  and  sympathetic  study  has  been  made 
of  him  and  of  his  environment,  of  his  past  as  well  as  of 
his  present.  And  it  is  just  here  that  the  well-intentioned 
educators  and  missionaries  of  former  days  made  their 
mistakes,  and  courted  and  won  failure,  failure  for  them- 
selves and  the  wards  they  loved,  but  loved  unwisely. 
Africa  is  a  land  of  failures;  we  have  as  yet  no  knowledge 


340  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

which  enables  us  to  even  guess  the  reason.  If  we  except 
the  Egyptians,  no  African  people  have  written  their  name 
distinctly  on  any  record  of  olden  or  modern  time.  No 
African  race  has  risen  to  greatness.  The  splendours  of 
Carthage  were  fed  and  sustained  by  the  sea.  Africa 
proper  was  in  olden  times,  as  in  modern,  a  land  ravaged 
by  the  gold  seekers  and  slave  hunter. 

Mohammedanism  has  failed  in  Africa  to  give  the  tribes 
that  embraced  it  anything  approaching  expansive  civiliza- 
tion. Mohammedanism  does  much  for  the  individual,  let  so 
much  be  admitted  at  once.  Mohammedanism  makes  him 
at  least,  in  sort,  brother  man  with  all  those  who  follow  the 
Prophet,  tends  to  make  him  cleaner,  braver  and  more 
self-respecting.  But  there  always  it  seems,  fatally,  to 
stop.  It  leaves  him  with  no  regard  for  his  fellow  man 
as  a  man.  The  Mohammedan  looks  down,  and  as  long 
as  he  is  true  to  his  creed,  must  ever  look  down,  on  all 
people  not  of  his  creed.  So  he  remains  forever  a  pledged 
opponent  of  all  that  is  progressive  and  uplifting  in  modern 
knowledge  or  government.  If  there  was  any  real  and 
lasting  benefit  coming  to  the  native  African  by  way  of 
Mohammedanism  reason  would  demand  that  all  good  people 
should  rejoice.  Many  of  the  tribes  near  the  coast  have 
in  large  part  professedly  accepted  the  Prophet.  But 
their's  seems  to  be  a  mere  veneer  of  Mohammedanism. 
The  slave-trading  Arab  and  Somali  was  no  doubt  often 
a  devoutly  religious  man  after  his  kind,  but  he  proved 
a  poor  sort  of  missionary,  and  so  left  behind  him  a  trail 
of  misery,  blood,  and  death.  I  do  not  think,  then,  that 
those  are  prejudiced  who  say  that  there  is  likely  to  come 
to  Africa  from  Mohammedanism  no  permanent  uplift. 
It  has  had  its  great  chance  on  that  continent.  It  has 
worked  its  will  with  little  let  or  hindrance  for  years  and 
there  is  little  to  show  for  it.  Africa  is  dark,  very  dark 
to-day,  and  very  hopeless,  except  in  those  spots  where 


THE   COUNTRY  34I 

Christian  missionaries  have  broken  the  hard  ground, 
and  European  (not  Belgian)  powers  have,  following  in 
their  steps,  begun  to  lay  the  foundations  of  government. 

Africa  is  like  a  chronic  invalid,  on  whom  almost  every 
quack,  as  well  as  every  physician  of  established  reputa- 
tion, has  tried  his  nostrums  in  vain.     She  has  furnished 
gold  for  a  good  part  of  the  Eastern  world  in  the  past,  and 
for  the  Northern  in  the  present,  and  provided  slaves  for 
all  the  world  from  time  out  of  mind,  and  still  she  breeds 
her    dark    myriads.     Still    they    clash    among    themselves 
in  unrecorded  wars,  and  slaughter  and  enslave  each  other. 
They    speak   literally    in    hundreds    of   different    tongues, 
and  as  Job  said  long  ago  they  have  no  "  Daysman "  to 
stand  between  them,  no  interpreter  to  each  other  or  to  the 
outside   world.      Pestilence   and    famine,   unchecked,  un- 
relieved, have  swept  away  whole  nations  at  a  time.    The 
strong  of  the  earth  have  enslaved  and  in  vast  regions  still 
enslave  and  slaughter  them  at  will,  while  of  themselves 
no  leader,  no  teacher,  no  governor  arises  to  bring  them 
order;  such  has  been  Africa's  fate  for  unrecorded  ages. 
It  is  in  great  part  her  fate  to-day.     Can  any  man  with  a 
heart  in  his  bosom  deny  her  and  her  many  children  pity 
and  help  ? 

The  East  African  is  not  a  man,  he  is  a  child,  and  a 
child's  education  and  discipline  is  what  he  needs.  Eng- 
land's coming  has  wrought  already  one  profound  change 
in  his  environment.  It  has  put  a  stop  to  the  constant 
blood-letting  that  drained  the  land  of  men.  War,  not 
between  tribe  and  tribe  only,  but  between  petty  chiefs 
and  even  insignificant  villages,  went  on  all  over  unoc- 
cupied Africa  till  England  or  German  occupation  stopped  it. 

Sir  Charles  Eliot  in  his  admirable  work  on  East  Africa 
has  stated  with  substantial  truth  what  England  has  ac- 
complished, although  he  makes  no  sufficient  mention  of 
what  German  rule  has  also  achieved.  He  says,  "England 


342  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

has  reason  to  congratulate  herself,  without  undue  lauda- 
tion, on  the  accomplishment  of  the  greatest  work  of  humanity 
that  the  world  has  ever  seen.  It  is  only  ten  or  fifteen 
years  since  the  whole  country  from  the  ocean  to  the  Congo 
groaned  beneath  oppression  and  bloodshed;  on  the  coast 
the  Arab  took  two  children  out  of  three  in  every  family 
as  slaves.  From  Lake  Victoria  almost  to  Mombassa 
the  Massai  harried  the  land.  The  valleys  were  deserted, 
no  one  dared  to  keep  cattle  for  fear  of  exciting  the  cupidity 
of  the  raiders.  In  Uganda,  Mtessa  put  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands  to  death  in  apparently  aimless  fury.  The 
caravans  of  the  slave  traders  travelled  the  whole  country 
seeking  victims.  Every  tribe  was  at  war  with  its  neighbour. 
Nature  augmented  the  terrible  misery  by  causing  terrible 
famines." 

So  much  is  only  too  true.  Incidentally  how  strong 
a  testimony  is  this  borne  by  Sir  Charles  to  the  innate 
capacity  and  docility  of  the  native.  No  rude  children 
of  the  wild  anywhere  in  the  world  are  easier  to  lead  or 
more  faithful  to  those  who  lead  them.  They  have  wel- 
comed the  rule  of  England  though  that  rule,  so  far  as  it 
has  been  extended  to  them,  is  as  yet  a  rather  shadowy 
rule.  It  has  been  just,  it  saves  the  oppressed  from  the 
oppressor  and  it  most  conscientiously  strives  to  safeguard 
the  rights  of  all.  The  well-to-do  are  not  despoiled,  nor  are 
the  feeble  enslaved.  "The  Song  of  the  Birds"  that  the 
young  men  of  the  Elgao  sang  to  us  as  they  danced  by  the 
signal  rock  overlooking  the  wide  valley,  is  a  true  song 
to-day.  The  women  need  no  longer  fear  for  husband, 
son  or  daughter.  The  spears  are  no  longer  red,  and  the 
warrior  may  safely  doze  the  day  away  as  he  squats  in 
the  sun  on  the  table  rock  from  which  his  forefathers  so 
often  cried  to  the  tribe  a  dreadful  note  of  warning. 

The  Elgao  contentedly  herds  his  little  flock.  The 
small  brave  communities  of  the  forest  N'dorobo  come 


THE  COUNTRY  343 

forth  from  their  woodland  shelters  a  little  less  cautiously 
than  of  yore.  The  Massai  complacently  watches  the 
growth  of  his  quite  enormous  herds;  the  Nandi,  partly 
shorn  of  his,  turns  resolutely  to  the  cultivation  of  a  soil  as 
rich  as  any  in  Africa.  The  Ketosch  need  no  longer  bury 
themselves  and  their  cattle  together  in  the  stifling  smoke 
of  their  cave  fortresses  on  Elgao  slopes,  the  little  raid 
going  on,  and  the  small  war  parties  occasionally  hovering 
about,  are  not  serious,  and  if  the  chiefs  do  not  suppress 
such  youthful  exuberance  the  local  police  surely  will.  In 
short,  at  present,  contentment  reigns  over  all  beautiful 
Nzoia  land,  and,  indeed,  in  all  British  East  Africa  and 
Uganda.  The  question  is,  can  it  continue  ? 

The  difficulties  and  responsibilities  of  England's  ad- 
ministration are  only  beginning.  To  these  simple  people 
who  so  readily  trust  and  obey  even  a  shadowy  rule,  some- 
thing more  than  protection  is  owing.  They  can  most 
easily  be  protected  from  each  other,  but  can  they  as  readily 
be  protected  from  the  consequences  that  must  inevitably 
follow  the  coming  to  their  country  of  the  white  man  ? 

Alas!  from  much  that  is  utterly  evil  England  has 
already  failed,  quite  failed,  to  protect  them.  She  did  a 
great  work  when  she  made  a  declaration  that  slavery 
should  cease,  and  enforced  that  declaration  with  the 
crews  and  guns  of  her  men-of-war.  But  in  Africa  to  free 
the  slave  is  not  by  any  means  the  same  thing  as  to  rear 
and  educate  the  man. 

England  surely  has  had  laid  on  her  shoulders  the  very 
greatest  and  most  difficult  of  all  possible  tasks  that  civiliza- 
tion can  allot  to  any  people.  All  over  the  world,  on  con- 
tinents and  amid  the  islands  of  the  sea,  she  has  at  least 
attempted  to  do  what  the  judgments  of  posterity  will 
assert  has  not  been  as  persistently  attempted  by  any  con- 
quering race.  She  has  aimed  high  and  her  aim  has  been 
to  be  fair  — to  her  conquered  as  well  as  her  conquering 


344  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

children.  But  her  policy  presents  so  many  contradictions 
that  it  is  no  wonder  she  has  been  and  still  is  accused  of 
an  hypocrisy  that  on  the  one  hand  makes  a  pretension  to 
high  ideals  and  on  the  other  shows  subserviency  to  ordinary 
selfish  nationalism.  These  contradictions  she  cannot  ex- 
plain to  herself:  how  much  less  can  she  do  so  to  her  critics  ? 

She  forced  opium  on  the  Chinese  at  the  muzzles  of  her 
cannon,  and  with  the  same  civilizers  she  forces  freedom 
on  the  East  African  slave.  To  attempt  to  explain  the 
moral  curiosities  which  attend  the  development  of  a  great 
policy  of  trade  or  colonization  requires  time  and  study. 
In  the  United  States  so  far  as  the  same  problems  have 
arisen,  our  policy  has  often  presented  the  same  inconsist- 
encies. Inevitable  results  and  responsibilities  will  con- 
front all  who  hold  themselves  to  be  keepers  of  their  weaker 
brother,  and  in  British  East  Africa  these  are  about  to 
press  hard  on  England. 

Can  she  continue  to  be  fair  to  the  mixed  people  com- 
ing to  that  land  ?  Can  the  clashing  needs  and  passions  of 
men  be  so  bridled  and  modified  ?  Can  the  selfishness  of  the 
human  animal  be  so  restrained  ?  Can  the  heart  of  man 
be  so  enlarged  that  the  white  and  black  can  live  contentedly 
side  by  side  to  their  mutual  advantage  ?  Many  wise  men 
already  despair  of  such  an  Utopia,  and  in  all  honesty  it 
must  be  admitted  that  till  now  there  have  been  but  few 
signs  of  any  such  issue  to  the  struggle  between  the  white 
man  and  the  black,  whether  the  field  of  competition  be 
Africa  or  the  United  States. 

One  thing  at  any  rate  is  quite  admirable  in  England's 
attitude.  That  is  its  persistence.  Blunderingly,  defeatedly 
often,  yet  perseveringly,  her  mighty  and  but  half-conscious 
democratic  spirit  struggles  on,  trying  to  right  the  .wrongs  she 
has  herself  often  been  guilty  of,  trying  always  to  be  fair. 
Surely,  in  the  day  when  nations  must  come  forth  to  trial, 
this  shall  be  counted  to  her  for  righteousness. 


THE   COUNTRY  345 

So  much  every  fair-minded  man  must  admit  that  Eng- 
land has  done,  and  is  trying  to  do  in  the  Protectorate. 
But  aims  and  results  are  far  from  being  the  same.  Actually 
the  moral  condition  of  many  of  the  tribes  has  altered 
seriously  for  the  worse  since  her  arrival. 

One  of  the  fruitful  causes  of  evil  has  arisen  from  the 
incapacity  of  the  white  man  to  understand  quickly  the 
black.  The  missionary,  the  soldier,  the  foreigner,  generally 
insist  on  treating  him  as  though  he  were  a  man;  he  is  not 
a  man,  as  I  have  before  said,  but  a  child,  and  a  child  whose 
childish  development  has  in  some  mysterious  way  been 
retarded. 

The  philanthropists  of  the  last  century  cried  aloud, 
"Let  us  free  him,  and  he  will  stand  on  his  feet."  Free 
him,  yes,  by  all  means,  but  from  whom  ?  From  his  task- 
master, you  will  say,  of  course.  Yes,  granted,  but  the 
very  worst  master  he  can  have  is  himself.  Abstract  freedom 
was  a  fetich  to  good  men  in  London  and  Massachusetts, 
men  who  had  not  had  an  opportunity  to  study  the  half- 
developed  creature  they  would  hurriedly  and  at  all  costs, 
make  free.  Ah!  we  are  inevitably  learning  that  manhood 
is  a  plant  of  slow  and  painful  growth. 

I  have  heard  a  story  told  of  Lincoln,  which,  if  I  am 
not  mistaken,  does  not  appear  in  any  life  of  the  great 
President.  Before  Antietam  he  was  waited  on  by  an 
influential  deputation  of  Boston  Liberationists.  They 
urged  on  Mr.  Lincoln  the  immediate  need  of  proclaim- 
ing a  general  emancipation.  The  President  listened  quietly 
to  their  arguments  and  when  they  had  finished  he  said: 
"Gentlemen,  do  not  be  offended  if  I  give  you  a  simple 
question,  and  ask  for  a  plain  answer.  How  many  legs 
has  a  calf?"  The  spokesman  was  indignant  and  he  said 
so;  said  the  President's  question  was  lacking  in  respect 
to  the  Committee.  "I  intend  no  disrespect,  sir,"  said  he, 
"  please  answer  my  question."  "Why,  four,  Mr.  President." 


346  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

"Well,  gentlemen,  supposing  we  call  the  calf's  tail  a  leg, 
how  many  legs  has  a  calf  then  ? "  Again  the  Committee 
protested.  "Please  answer  my  question,  gentlemen."  "In 
that  case,  Mr.  President,  the  calf  has  five  legs."  "No, 
gentlemen,  for  our  calling  the  tail  a  leg  does  not  make  it  one, 
the  calf  has  still  only  four  legs.  Good  morning ! " 

Every  native  between  the  Nile  Valley  and  the  sea  may 
be  declared  free,  his  bonds  may  be  broken,  his  master 
deprived  of  his  services,  and  he  of  that  master's  protection 
and  rule.  But  no  declaration  will  make  him  free.  He 
must  have  some  master.  No  worse  fate  can  befall  him 
than  to  be  deprived  of  one  master  and  given  no  other. 
The  very  first  step  in  his  regeneration  is  taken  when  he  is 
induced,  forced,  if  necessary,  to  work.  In  part,  he  can 
be  induced  to  work.  I  have  pointed  out  again  and  again, 
that  the  East  African  does  admirably  the  work  he  likes 
doing,  if  he  is  wisely  and  firmly  forced  to  keep  on  doing 
it.  The  theorist  who  would  insist  on  pulling  down  and 
opposing  all  plans  for  exerting  pressure  on  the  native, 
because  such  plans  can  be  labelled  "forced  labour"  is  no 
friend  of  the  African.  It  is  the  influence  of  such  blind 
theorizing,  self-satisfied  and  ignorant  as  it  is,  that  thwarts 
often  and  brings  to  nothing  the  wise  efforts  of  those  who 
know  the  native,  and  are  on  the  spot  making  sacrifices  to 
aid  and  educate  him — efforts  that  often  the  self-confident 
philanthropist  in  a  far-away  land  might  not  be  ready  to 
make. 

The  native  can  be  taught  agriculture,  the  men  can  in 
time  be  taught  to  take  part  in  it,  as  well  as  the  women,  but 
it  is  necessarily  a  slow  work.  The  native  can  be  trained 
into  a  fair  mechanic.  He  naturally  takes  to  iron  work, 
pottery,  brick-making,  stone  cutting,  carpentry.  But 
to  teach  him  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  indenture  him 
and  make  him  stick  to  his  job  till  he  has  gained  a  certain 
proficiency  in  it;  otherwise  in  a  few  weeks  or  months  he 


THE  COUNTRY  347 

grows  tired  and,  like  the  Arab,  silently  slips  away;  or 
after  infinite  pains  have  been  expended  on  getting  him 
and  providing  him  with  tools  and  teachers,  his  parents 
come  demanding  the  youth  to  aid  them  to  gather  the 
harvest  or  to  migrate  with  the  flocks,  and  the  disappointed 
teacher  sees  the  last  of  a  promising  pupil. 

The  East  African  native  is  at  heart  a  nomad  still  and  no 
system  of  education  or  of  government  that  does  not  take 
account  of  this  deeply  inbred  tendency  can  do  him  much 
good.  The  influence  of  steady  work  is  the  one  thing  he 
wants  in  his  present  state,  is  indeed  the  only  education 
he  is  at  first  fitted  for.  The  influence  of  labour  will  make 
itself  felt  in  every  direction.  It  will  tend  to  the  material 
prosperity  of  the  country  and  thus  furnish  funds  which 
the  white  man  can  employ  in  keeping  order  and  establish- 
ing a  regular  administration.  "Best  of  all,  the  habit  of 
labour  will  bring  the  native  into  contact  with  the  white 
master,  and  supposing  the  native  to  be  (as  he  is  usually  in 
British  East  Africa)  justly  and  firmly  treated,  it  will  instill 
a  confidence  and  respect,  and  hold  up  to  the  savage  a 
superior  standard  of  comfort  which  he  may  be  in  time 
impelled  to  obtain  for  himself."  * 

The  African's  nomadism  is  his  toughest  defence  against 
all  education,  all  real  progress,  no  matter  who  he  is  or  to 
what  tribe  he  belongs,  whether  he  be  a  mission  boy,  a 
heathen  or  a  Mohammedan,  nothing  but  force  will  make 
him  stick  to  his  job.  Keep  him  to  it,  and  he  likes  it.  You 
will  see  him  dancing  from  seven  in  the  evening  till  mid- 
night, two  or  three  nights  in  the  week,  after  he  has  done 
a  long  day's  work  with  the  hoe  in  a  settler's  shamba.  You 
will  see  him  engaging  in  impromptu  races  up  and  down 
Port  Florence  pier,  after  he  has  toiled  from  twelve  to 
sixteen  hours  without  a  meal,  unloading  a  steamer  in  the 
sun.  This  extraordinary  spectacle  I  have  seen  myself, 

*  Lionel  Dech.    "Three  years  in  Savage  Africa,"  p.  526. 


.348  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

and  the  captain  of  the  steamer  who  was  with  good  reason 
proud  of  his  "gang  of  boys,"  told  me  it  was  a  common  sight. 
But  then  he  was  a  scrupulously  fair  and  also  a  firm  master 
and  there  was  competition  among  the  natives  to  get  a  place 
in  that  "gang."  I  might  multiply  such  evidence  of  the 
East  African's  capacity  for  work,  but  any  observant  travel- 
ler will  admit  the  truth  of  what  I  say. 

The  native  shows  every  promise  that  a  child  can  show 
of  capacity  for  a  sound  industrial  education,  but  as  yet  in 
German  territory  alone  is  any  effort  being  made  to  pro- 
vide him  with  it.  In  British  East  Africa  the  native  trades- 
man were  he  competent,  would  be  a  godsend.  The  only 
artificers  at  present  to  be  had  there  are  Hindi,  and  very 
unsatisfactory  workmen  they  prove.  But  the  native 
must  be  controlled  before  he  can  be  taught. 

The  Germans  have  already  in  this  direction  accomplished 
good  results.  The  order  and  method  obtained  in  their  ports 
is  in  striking  contrast  to  the  wild  confusion  and  inefficiency 
so  painfully  obvious  among  the  natives  of  the  English 
coast  line.  The  German  natives,  too,  are  at  least  as  well 
paid  and  both  they  and  the  travelling  public  gain  by  their 
•discipline.  At  Tanga  there  are  admirable  industrial  schools 
where  native  boys  are  indentured  and  kept  at  their  work 
till  they  know  it.  But  then  Germany  is  quicker  to  under- 
stand the  educational  needs  of  a  people  than  any  other 
European  nation. 

From  all  this  it  follows  that  the  programme  of  the 
well-intentioned,  but  very  ignorant  home-staying  phil- 
anthropist, who  insists  on  laying  down  the  law  for  a  people 
of  whose  actual  condition  he  knows  very  little,  is  a  mistaken 
and  most  hurtful  policy.  He  hears  of  the  gross  evils  attend- 
ing forced  labour  in  the  Congo  or  in  Portuguese  Africa, 
and  at  once  jumps  to  the  conclusion  that  the  cure  for  the 
evil  is  to  abolish  forced  labour  in  any  form. 

There   is  very   little   labour  yielded   anywhere   in   the 


THE   COUNTRY 

world  except  by  compulsion  of  one  sort  or  another;  a 
blessed  and  universal  compulsion  drives  us  all  to  toil. 
Most  of  all  does  the  child  nature  of  the  black  man  need 
its  beneficent  pressure.  Least  of  all  men  does  his  environ- 
ment supply  it.  He  can  sit  in  the  sun  and  drink  him- 
self stupid  on  pomba,  as  alas!  millions  of  natives  do,  while 
his  wives  and  children  easily  accomplish  the  shallow  tillage 
which  is  sufficient  to  provide  him  with  food  and  drink; 
but  where,  in  such  an  existence,  are  there  any  oppor- 
tunities for  advancement  ? 

The  misguided  philanthropist  again  would  insist  on 
his  being  allowed  to  remain  in  the  absolute  possession  of 
large  portions  of  his  land  which  should  be  interdicted  to 
the  white  settler.  There  are  places  where  it  would  seem 
to  be  advisable  so  to  protect  him,  though  the  areas  should 
not  be  too  large,  but  a  real  knowledge  of  the  local  con- 
ditions is  most  necessary  before  any  such  arrangements  are 
made.  Generally  speaking,  the  larger  the  native  reserva- 
tion, the  harder  it  proves  to  reach,  govern  or  educate  the 
native,  and  the  more  strongly  he  intrenches  himself  in 
barbarism,  adding  to  the  ignorance  and  evils  to  which 
he  is  heir,  those  he  too  readily  acquires  from  the  white 
man. 

The  one  thing  that  seems  evident  to  every  intelligent 
friend  of  the  native  to-day  is  that  at  all  costs  he  must  be 
made  to  work.  Wants,  new  wants,  must  be  created  in  him. 
Those  of  his  would-be  friends  who  ignore  or  forget  this 
are  doing  what  they  can  to  make  him  in  the  end  a  dis- 
possessed and  perishing  outcast. 

Africa  cannot  be  for  ever  left  to  savagery,  or  to  savage 
men.  The  world  needs  Africa  —  needs  what  Africa  can 
produce.  Land-hunger  among  the  peoples  will  not  languish, 
it  must  increase.  The  death-rate  of  the  East  is  falling. 
Famines  and  pestilence  are  being  by  science  and  phil- 
anthropy restrained.  Vast  rich  tracts  of  earth's  surface 


350  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

cannot  be  left  to  the  careless  savage,  who  does  not  know  and 
will  not  learn  how  to  use  them.  "From  him  that  hath 
not  shall  be  taken  away  that  he  hath"  is  not  the  cruel  decree 
of  an  irresponsible  tyrant,  but  the  far-seeing  declaration 
of  one  who  loved  men  and  knew  what  was  in  them. 

So  much  for  the  need  of  making  the  native  work  for 
his  own  salvation's  sake.  But  there  is  another  side  to 
the  question  of  native  labour  which  must  not  be  forgotten. 

Unless  one  is  acquainted  with  the  country  one  cannot 
at  all  realize  the  imperative  importance  of  native  labour 
to  the  African  colonist.  His  fortune,  his  home,  his  all 
depends  on  a  sufficient  and  staple  supply  of  that  labour, 
at  the  time  that  he  wants  it,  and  at  such  a  fixed  price  that 
he  can  estimate  his  profit  and  loss. 

Africa  is  as  yet  the  land  of  dreadful  uncertainties. 
Some  new  danger,  some  unexpected  sickness,  some  worm 
or  grub  in  the  field,  some  murrain  breaking  out  in  the 
herd  —  these  the  settler  must  be  prepraed  to  contend  with. 
No  other  country  compares  with  Africa  in  producing 
unheralded  calamities. 

In  addition  to  these  the  agriculturalist  has  to  prepare 
for  an  uncertain  rainfall,  in  a  country  where  even  one 
season's  shortage  in  the  rains  may  mean  dire  famine. 

To  those  who  do  not  know  Africa  such  language  seems 
exaggeration  but  unfortunately  it  is  the  sober  truth.  Until 
lately  it  cost  $1,000  per  ton  to  bring  goods  from  Uganda 
to  the  sea,  a  distance  of  only  five  hundred  miles.  Only  a 
few  months  ago  I  had  to  pay  $4  for  sixty  pounds  of  food  for 
my  men,  and  poor  grain  too.  That  was  a  prohibitory  price 
for  natives.  Many  therefore  died  of  actual  hunger  in  a 
region  that  within  a  few  weeks  was  so  well  supplied  with 
native-grown  grain  that  it  could  afford  to  export  a  good 
deal.  In  May  you  might  see  men  dead  by  the  roadside, 
where  in  August  plenty  reigned. 

Try,  then,  to  understand  how  great  are  the  difficulties 


THE  COUNTRY  35I 

of  the  farmer  living  many  days  march  from  the  railroad. 
When  he  does  gain  access  to  that  road  his  difficulties  are 
not  over.  There  is  only  one  little  narrow-gauge  line  for 
all  the  country.  The  grades  on  it  are  very  severe,  ten 
small  carriages  or  trucks  are  as  much  as  an  engine  can  draw. 
Freight  rates  are  not  as  high  as  they  were,  but  are  still 
very  high.  Labour-saving  farming  machinery  is  out  of 
question;  no  native  could  use  it.  If  he  works  in  the 
sun  all  day,  he  has  only  his  two  hands,  and  the  sun  kills. 
To  break  up  his  ground,  to  free  it  from  a  tropic  luxuriance 
of  weed,  to  sow  and  reap  it,  to  carry  his  produce  to  the 
distant  market,  he  is  for  all  these  dependent  on  native 
labour.  His  herds  may  have  to  be  driven  many  miles 
to  water,  and  if  not  watched  at  night  and  guarded  by  fires 
and  thorn  boma,  they  would  soon  disappear. 

Without  a  regular  supply,  then,  of  native  labour  and 
at  a  fixed  price  the  farmer  cannot  live.  But  the  farmer  has 
an  inevitable  competitor  in  the  Government  itself.  Noth- 
ing can  be  accomplished  in  the  Protectorate  without  native 
labour.  The  roads,  the  stations,  the  Government  works, 
the  supplying  of  military  and  civil  forces  at  distant  and 
inaccessible  points  —  all  these  require  immense  numbers 
of  partially  trained  and  disciplined  natives. 

The  East  African  is  so  important  both  to  settler  and 
official  that  there  is  often  a  scramble  to  get  him,  and 
he,  while  he  is  willing  to  work  when  starvation  forces  him 
to  it,  is  apt,  as  soon  as  he  has  a  rupee  in  the  corner  of  his 
blanket,  to  try  to  avoid  working  for  either  Government 
or  farmer.  I  am  afraid  it  must  be  confessed  that  for  him 
sefari  life  is  not  always  a  good  thing.  The  wages  he  earns 
at  it  are  much  higher  than  the  colonist  can  usually  afford 
to  give  and  it  encourages  his  innate  tendency  to  wander 
from  place  to  place  and  from  job  to  job. 

I  have  given  the  merest  outline  of  the  difficulties  inci- 
dent to  the  employment  of  labour,  but  even  that  is  enough 


352  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

to  indicate  how  complex  is  the  question.  How  is  it  being 
dealt  with  ? 

The  civil  officers  of  each  district  are,  among  their 
other  multifarious  duties,  expected  to  provide  native 
labour  for  colonists  settled  within  that  district,  as  well  as 
to  furnish  the  necessary  gangs  to  carry  on  department 
contracts.  Natives  in  gangs  of  several  hundreds  may 
be  seen  marching  off  to  build  roads,  cut  wood,  mend 
railway  embankments,  carry  supplies,  etc.  And  as  there 
is  only  a  very  small  staff  of  Europeans  in  the  country, 
all  such  works  have  to  be  let  out  on  contract  to  Hindu 
or  Swahili  contractors.  Here  at  once  arises  a  need  of 
protecting  the  native.  No  one  in  his  senses  would  advocate 
handing  over  natives  to  the  tender  mercies  of  a  Hindu 
contractor.  He  would  be  overworked,  underfed  and  driven 
to  desert  before  the  time  he  had  engaged  for  had  expired. 

By  way  of  illustration,  I  will  tell  a  story.     Three  years 

ago  I  was  staying  with  X ,  the  civil  officer  in  temporary 

charge  of  an  important  post.  One  afternoon  three  hundred 
miserable  wretches  crawled  into  the  boma  and  seated 
themselves  before  the  office.  The  officer  came  out  and 
asked  what  was  the  matter.  A  little  starved  looking  lad 
of  certainly  not  more  than  twelve  years  separated  himself 
from  the  dumb  throng,  came  up  alone,  and  said:  "Bwana 
beat  me  and  let  me  go  home."  The  child  then  lay  down 
on  the  ground,  as  the  natives  are  made  to  do  before  being 

whipped;  X took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance.     "  Here," 

said  he,  "is  an  instance  of  how  these  rascally  Hindis  go 
to  work.  I  saw  these  people  off  to  their  Government 
job  three  months  ago.  They  were  in  good  enough  shape 
then.  Look  at  them  now.  Some  down  with  fever,  some 
with  dysentery,  and  all  of  them  starved.  That  devil  has 
worked  them  harder  and  harder  as  their  contract  time  drew 
to  a  close.  He  has  harried  them  and  beaten  them  and, 
having  got  almost  three  months  work  out  of  them,  makes 


THE   COUNTRY  353 

their  lives  so  miserable  that  in  the  last  fortnight  of  their 
time  they  desert.  That  is  what  he  has  been  aiming  at 
all  along.  The  deserter  forfeits  all  his  wages,  and  can 
be  punished  by  flogging  as  well.  That  is  what  that  child's 
appeal  means."  Without  delay  the  station  doctor  was 
called  in  and  on  examination  declared  that  the  men  had 
been  neglected  and  insufficiently  fed.  Potio  was  at  once 
served  from  the  stores.  For  a  whole  week  these  poor 
things  were  well  fed  and  looked  after  and  at  the  end  of 
it  you  would  scarcely  have  recognized  them.  Meanwhile 
the  aggrieved  contractor  came  to  the  Boma  saying  how 
impossible  it  was  for  him  to  complete  his  contract  with 
such  useless  labour  as  had  been  supplied  to  him,  and 
asking  for  another  draft  to  finish  up  with.  His  dismay 
on  finding  his  men  feeding  on  full  allowance  of  potio,  at 
his  own  expense,  was  ludicrous.  He  met  with  a  recep- 
tion he  is  never  likely  to  forget.  He  paid  for  three  weeks' 
feeding  in  idleness,  and  he  paid  for  their  full  three  months' 
work.  So  rascality  that  time  did  not  pay  him.  And  alas 

for  life's  tragedy,  poor  X got  into  some  trouble  soon 

after  and  shot  himself.  Everyone  was  down  on  him, 
though  surely  he  had  somewhere  within  him  the  makings 
of  a  man! 

Now  it  is  only  fair  to  the  local  authorities  to  remember 
that  they  are  keenly  aware  of  the  dangers  attending  the 
contracted  employment  of  the  native.  They  cannot  at 
present  rid  themselves  of  the  system,  so  they  provided,  so 
far  as  they  can,  laws  that  shall  defend  the  native  against 
just  such  outrages  as  this  one  to  which  I  was  a  witness. 

They  had  lately  passed  a  new  ordinance,  for  instance, 
which  requires  every  employer  of  labour,  whether  con- 
tractor or  farmer,  to  pay  a  certain  part  of  the  wages  due 
to  his  servant  in  advance,  and  also  provide  him  with 
blanket  and  cooking  pot.  Now,  such  an  ordinance  would 
work  well  in  the  case  of  hundreds  of  workmen  engaged  on 


354  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

regular  Government  work.  The  men  on  that  sort  of  work 
are  in  gangs,  keep  regular  hours,  and  are  easily  super- 
vised. They  cannot  desert  as  soon  as  they  get  their 
advance  and  blanket,  for  there  are  armed  guards  to  look 
after  them  and  they  would  be  caught  and  punished.  They 
might  desert  in  a  body,  but  could  not  take  that  extreme 
step  unless  they  had  been  badly  treated  indeed. 

But  now  take  the  case  of  a  settler  needing  a  dozen 
or  a  hundred  day  labourers  to  herd  his  cattle  or  break 
his  land.  To  obey  this  law  for  him  means  ruin.  To  pay 
the  labourer  beforehand,  to  give  him  blankets,  etc.,  is  to 
put  temptation  under  his  nose.  He  finds  himself  with 
wealth  he  has  not  worked  for  in  his  hands,  and  the  much- 
coveted  blanket  on  his  back.  It  is  too  much  for  native 
human  nature.  Next  morning  he  is  gone.  The  unfor- 
tunate employer  is  quite  helpless.  Now  more  than  before 
it  is  impossible  to  leave  his  shamba.  His  crops,  his 
stock,  need  every  instant  of  his  time.  He  is  driven  from 
morning  to  night.  The  last  thing  he  can  do  is  to  chase 
natives  in  the  wide  country,  or  among  native  villages, 
where  half  a  hundred  of  them  might  easily  and  success- 
fully hide. 

It  was  the  issuing  of  this  last  order  in  council  that 
caused  such  disturbance  at  Nairobi,  during  the  spring 
of  1908.  Popular  feeling  against  the  Government  ran 
very  high.  The  settlers  had  a  strong  case,  but  their  mis- 
take lay  in  their  method  of  presenting  it.  There  can  be 
no  prosperity,  no  steady  progress  made  in  the  Protector- 
ate till  this  question  of  native  labour  has  been  thrashed 
out,  till  the  black  man  has  been  taught  that  whether  he 
will  or  no  he  must  work,  or  he  will  be  taxed  until  he  does. 

Now  let  me  turn  for  a  little  to  this  question  of  native 
taxation  and  diffidently  offer  a  suggestion.  Of  course, 
a  mere  traveller  through  the  country  has  not  time  fairly 
to  estimate  difficulties  that  might  arise  to  prevent  the 


THE   COUNTRY  355 

success  of  what  would  seem  at  least  a  step  in  the  right 
direction.  Now,  though  no  magicians'  wand  can  be  waved 
by  any  governor  or  government,  that  by  its  waving  should 
suddenly  transform  age-long  savage  incapacity  into  the 
trained  and  educated  ally  of  civilized  progress,  still  the 
beginning  of  better  things  could  be  attempted  here  and  now. 

Some  of  the  natives  are  willing  to  work;  that  number 
is  increasing.  A  premium  should  be  placed  on  such  will- 
ingness, a  prize  which  the  native  could  understand  and 
value  offered  to  all  who  try,  and  as  yet  no  attempt  to  do 
this  has  been  made. 

The  system  of  taxation  now  in  use  in  the  Protector- 
ate, presses  most  unfairly  on  some,  and  others,  those  often 
best  able  to  endure  it,  it  never  reaches  at  all. 

A  friend  of  mine  coming  to  meet  me,  in  May  last, 
saw  three  Kikuyu  lying  by  the  roadside,  dead  from  actual 
starvation,  while  tied  up  in  the  corner  of  their  poor,  red, 
cotton  blankets  were  the  three  rupees  they  were  stagger- 
ing along  to  pay  as  hut  tax  (the  only  tax  the  native  now 
pays)  to  the  district  collector. 

No  native  would  touch  the  blankets  or  the  rupees, 
the  men  lay  in  a  shrunken  little  heap  as  they  had  died, 
with  their  blankets  drawn  over  their  faces. 

Now  by  contrast  see  the  case  of  the  Massai,  that  petted 
and  most  useless  of  all  the  East  African  natives.  The 
Massai  will  do  no  work;  when  he  is  a  boy  he  herds  the 
cows  and  sheep;  after  his  initiation  he  lives  for  ten  years 
in  the  warrior's  kraal.  As  a  warrior  he  must  obey  his  chiefs 
commands  and  be  ready  to  defend  his  people  against  raids 
of  wild  men  and  beasts.  Now,  this  military  system  of  his 
once  made  him  the  dreaded  master  of  all  East  Africa, 
but  this  time  is  past.  There  is  now  no  further  need  for  his 
militarism.  He,  as  warrior,  is  nothing  but  a  lazy  licentious 
parasite,  a  burden  on  the  country,  if  not  a  danger  to  it. 
Change  he  will  not;  why  should  he  ?  He  has  the  fattest 


356  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

of  a  fat  land,  counting  his  flocks  by  hundreds  or  thous- 
ands. These  grow  enormously,  while  he  does  nothing 
but  sit  in  the  sun.  His  wives  keep  his  hut  daubed  with 
cow-dung  and  when  his  cattle  have  browsed  down  the 
neighbouring  pastures,  they  pack  for  him  all  his  belong- 
ings on  their  own  or  the  donkeys'  backs  and  move  on  to 
pastures  new.  He  strolls  ahead,  chatting  with  the  other 
"old  men"  while  a  new  village  arises,  and  its  thorn  Boma 
is  put  up.  Now,  how  does  a  yearly  tax  of  three  rupees 
a  hut  affect  this  gentleman  of  means  and  leisure  ?  It 
affects  him  not  at  all.  His  cows  are  worth  one  hundred 
rupees  each,  and  he  has  several  hundreds,  sometimes 
several  thousands  of  them.  His  bullocks  are  almost  as 
numerous,  and  these  he  values  not  because  he  trains  them 
to  labour  or  intends  selling  them  to  the  settler,  for  he  scoffs 
at  the  idea  of  parting  with  any  but  the  sick  sheep  or 
goats,  or  barren  cows.  He  values  them  for  their  blood, 
which  once  in  every  few  weeks  he  draws  from  them 
and  drinks.  He  will  sell  nothing  and  he  will  till  the 
ground  nowhere. 

In  his  case  the  fixed  tax  is  an  absurdity.  There  are 
Massai  to-day  whose  herds  in  the  open  market  would 
fetch  $50,000,  and  these  enormous  herds  are  in  splendid 
condition  and  are  increasing  year  by  year. 

The  Massai  should  be  taxed  on  his  herds,  every  cow 
should  pay  a  tax,  and  they  should  be  forced  to  sell  at  least 
some  portion  of  their  cattle.  Why  should  the  very  best 
grazing  land  of  Africa  be  given  over  to  nomads  who  can- 
not be  induced  to  do  anything  for  their  living? 

Why  again  should  not  every  native  in  East  Africa  be 
told  to  present  himself  for  Government  registration  ? 
Such  registration  could  be  arranged  at  the  various  tribal 
posts  by  the  civil  authorities.  If  on  presenting  himself 
a  native  could  show  a  certificate  to  prove  he  had  worked 
either  for  the  Government  or  for  a  settler,  for  two  or  three 


THE   COUNTRY  357 

months  his  tax  would  be  reduced  or  remitted  altogether.  If 
he  had  no  such  proof  of  work  done,  it  might  be  increased. 
The  strongest  shoulders  should  be  made  to  carry  the 
heaviest  loads.  The  Massai  have  everything  done  for 
them.  Superb  grazing  lands  are  reserved  for  them, 
these  including  the  best  arable  lands  in  the  Protectorate ; 
and,  as  things  at  present  stand,  they  will  not  till  them  them- 
selves and  no  one  else  is  permitted  to  break  up  an  acre 
of  their  reserve.  So  the  end  of  this  one-sided  arrange- 
ment cannot  be  far  distant. 

Another  cause  of  present  friction  in  British  East  Africa 
is  the  anachronism  presented  by  the  law  courts.  The  East 
African  has  his  own  ideas  of  right  and  wrong.  These  are 
embodied  in  tribal  customs  and,  of  course,  vary  con- 
siderably, but  on  the  whole  they  form  a  system  that  does 
not  work  badly.  The  worst  element  is  witchcraft,  with 
its  attendant  cruelty  and  bloodshed,  and  gradually  this 
must  be  suppressed. 

In  time  a  legal  code  should  be  given  to  East  Africa 
by  means  of  which  the  tribes  could  be  educated  and 
governed  at  the  same  time.  The  Indian  criminal  code, 
at  present  the  established  law,  in  obedience  to  which 
the  high  court  at  Mombasa  is  supposed  to  review  the  acts 
of  the  magistrates  of  the  Protectorate,  is  a  strange  anach- 
ronism. Shall  Kikuyu  and  Massai  savages  be  educated 
to  understand  the  Indian  criminal  code  ?  How  shall 
poor,  harried,  overworked  local  Magistrates  govern  their 
immense  territories  if  they  are  on  all  occasions,  as  they 
are  at  present,  subject  to  reversal  of  their  findings  by 
honourable  gentlemen  from  England  and  India,  who 
test  such  findings  by  the  Indian  penal  code  ? 

This  extraordinary  proceeding  is  today  among  black 
and  white  creating  an  irritation  that  is  most  harmful  and 
may  prove  dangerous.  He  can  understand  his  chiePs 
findings  and  punishments.  He  can  also  submit  himself 


358  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

to  the  orders  and  penalties  of  his  white  overlord,  but  how 
can  he  understand  when  the  fines  his  white  overlord  has 
imposed  on  him  are  handed  back  to  him  at  the  bidding 
of  some  distant  and  quite  unknown  power  ?  Moreover, 
almost  surely  in  his  own  conscience  he  knew  the  fines 
to  be  just.  It  is  a  strange  muddle ! 

An  illustration  of  how  badly  this  Indian  code  works 
arose  quite  lately;  there  was  trouble  among  a  certain 
tribe  because  witch  doctors  had  poisoned,  as  they  often 
do,  some  of  their  enemies.  The  natives  thought  matters 
had  gone  far  enough,  so  they  put  two  of  the  witch  doctors 
through  the  ordeal.  One  was  burned  in  his  hut;  the 
othef  pegged  down  under  a  cow  skin  in  the  sun.  It  was 
the  rainy  season.  If  the  rain  came,  the  moistened  skin 
would  not  hurt  the  man,  if  the  sun  shone  he  would  be 
suffocated.  He  was  suffocated.  Five  natives  implicated 
in  the  affair  were  tried  for  their  lives.  Three  of  them 
were  sentenced  to  be  hanged. 

Now,  imagine  the  confusion  in  the  minds  of  these 
most  unfortunate  men.  They  had  followed  nothing  but 
the  tribal  custom.  Done  nothing  but  what  their  fathers 
had  done.  That  custom  must,  of  course,  be  stopped, 
but  it  must  be  by  a  policy  of  fair  play  all  around,  not  a 
policy  that  left  the  murdering  witch  doctor  untouched 
while  it  visited  with  condign  punishment  those  who, 
after  the  manner  of  their  people,  sought  to  limit  and 
restrain  its  power.  The  Indian  penal  code  knows  noth- 
ing of  the  intricate  matter  of  witch  doctoring. 

The  Protectorate  is  indeed  a  land  of  problems  and 
the  native  question  is  not  the  last  of  them;  there  remains 
still  a  difficult  one  to  face 

How  about  the  Hindi  ?  How  far  shall  he  come  ? 
Shall  the  land  be  ruled  and  financed  in  his  favour  ?  He 
is  of  the  Empire.  English  fair-mindedness  demands 
that  he  should  have  a  chance  in  this  new  land  to  make 


THE   COUNTRY  359 

a  modest  fortune  and  on  this  he  contentedly  retires  to 
his  own  country,  taking  every  rupee  he  has  made  with  him. 

Now  the  Hindi  has  been  a  necessity.  He  is  a  neces- 
sity still.  His  little  trading  shop  exists  everywhere  under 
conditions  which  no  white  man's  shop  could  face.  It  has 
often  proved  an  immense  convenience.  The  Hindi  who 
comes  here,  however,  is  not,  so  I  am  told  by  those  who 
know  India,  the  best  sort  of  an  Indian.  Certainly  the 
natives  do  not  respect  him.  He  degrades  them  and 
cheats  them.  Economically  he  may  be  a  convenience, 
but  morally  he  is  a  curse. 

His  coming  in  the  first  instance  was  a  necessity.  The 
English  policy  of  "muddle"  had  brought  on  the  Uganda 
mutiny,  and  the  home  authorities,  who  could  not  be 
induced  to  spend  a  few  thousand  pounds  to  pay  promptly 
the  arrears  due  to  an  over-worked  and  underfed  couple 
of  battalions  of  expatriated  Soudanese  troops,  came 
suddenly  to  the  conviction  that  they  would  spend  several 
million  pounds  to  build  a  railroad,  and  so  make  sure  of 
their  hold  on  the  rich  Uganda  land  that  had  been  so 
nearly  lost  to  them.  No  preparations  having  been  made, 
the  work  must  be  rushed  through  at  all  costs,  though 
there  was  really  no  reason  whatever  to  hurry.  The  little 
band  in  far-away  Uganda  had  shed  their  blood  freely, 
and  Uganda  and  Englishmen,  civilian,  soldier  and  mis- 
sionary, had  beaten  that  mutiny  and  had  won  out.  But 
it  is  England's  way  first  to  refuse  to  do  anything  and  then 
to  make  up  for  lost  time  by  trying  to  do  everything  at 
once;  so  the  Uganda  railroad  was  ordered  to  be  rushed 
through.  The  ignorant  and  terrified  tribes  of  the  interior 
who  had  been  harried  for  ages  by  slave  hunters  and  who 
only  managed  to  live  in  the  country  through  which  the 
railroad  had  to  pass  after  leaving  the  coast  by  hiding  their 
huts  and  villages  in  densest  forest  and  thorn  scrub,  could 
not  be  induced  to  bring  their  labour.  Their  refusal  forced 


360  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

on  the  administration  the  importation  of  the  Indian  coolie, 
and  in  the  wake  of  the  coolie,  who  was  ready  to  depart 
when  his  work  was  finished,  came  the  Hindi  trader  who 
elected  to  remain. 

The  Indian  debauches  the  native  wherever  he  gains 
influence  over  him  and  leaves  his  dreadful  mark  wherever 
he  remains.  He  is  a  past  master  in  all  departments  of 
deceit  and  fraud.  He  is  the  worst  element  in  the  labour 
market.  He  cheats  the  native  workman  and  knows 
enough  of  Indian  law  to  avoid,  when  avoidance  is  pos- 
sible, the  just  punishment  of  his  rascality.  He  has  no 
permanent  interest  in  the  country.  It  is  to  him  merely 
an  orange  to  suck  as  dry  as  may  be. 

As  far  as  one  can  see  the  Indian  is  likely  to  remain.  He 
makes  himself  useful  in  many  ways.  He  supplies  a  rela- 
tively cheap  and  fairly  good  railroad  servant.  None  but 
he  work  in  stone,  iron  or  wood;  and  no  effort  has  yet  been 
made  to  educate  the  natural  mechanical  gift  of  the  native, 
to  compete  with  him,  in  this  all-important  field. 

There  are  no  savings  banks  of  the  natives  and  he  there- 
fore secures  the  savings  of  the  black  wage  earners,  and 
sometimes  absconds  with  them.  To  keep  them  safely  he 
charges  the  poor  porter  eight  per  cent.,  and  then,  of  course, 
lends  the  cash  to  someone  else,  at  ten  or  more  per  cent. 
The  transaction  is  not  an  unprofitable  one.  Of  course, 
in  speaking  thus  harshly  of  Indian  influences  in  East  Africa, 
I  do  not  forget  that  there  are  some  honest  and  upright  men 
of  that  race.  I  speak  of  the  Indian  influence  as  it  is  gen- 
erally felt  in  the  country,  and  I  have  met  no  single  man, 
civil  officer,  or  resident  missionary,  who  does  not  assent 
to  the  truth  of  what  I  have  tried  temperately  to  state. 

Now  there  arrives  on  the  scene  another  incongruous 
element,  one,  too,  that  must  be  reckoned  with,  namely,  the 
Boer.  He,  with  a  better  eye  for  country  than  the  Eng- 
lish immigrant,  has  already  fastened  on  the  very  best  as 


THE   COUNTRY  361 

good  enough  for  him.  He  comes  here  as  he  has  come 
before  to  other  parts  of  the  continent.  He  comes  some- 
times to  make  a  home,  and  as  a  home-maker  he  should  be 
and  is  welcome.  Sometimes  to  make  but  a  short  stay  and 
then  move  on,  selling  his  holding  which  he  has  done  little 
or  nothing  to  improve,  and  again  seeking  some  wilder  land 
where  he  can  live  the  rough  and  uncontrolled  life  he  loves. 
Why  these  immigrant  Boers  who  now  are  crowding  into  the 
Protectorate  by  the  ship-load  have  left  the  Transvaal 
which  is  now  theirs  beyond  controversy,  none  of  them 
seems  to  be  able  to  say;  unless  the  excuse  that  times  are  hard 
there  counts  as  valid. 

The  wandering  Boer  is  an  unmixed  nuisance;  he  openly 
boasts  of  his  hatred  of  England  and  all  things  English,  yet 
he  very  shrewdly  avails  himself  of  every  loophole  that 
the  extraordinarily  generous  provisions  of  the  Protectorate 
allow  him.  I  will  quote  one  concrete  illustration  of  this 
temper  of  his  and  of  his  attitude  to  the  powers  that  be. 

A  sportmans's  licence  to  kill  game  in  British  East 
Africa  costs  250  dollars.  A  settler's  licence  50  dollars. 
In  addition  to  these  purchased  commissions  to  kill  game 
the  law  permits  a  bona  fide  settler  to  shoot  all  game  except 
elephant,  eland  and  giraffe,  on  his  own  land,  and  as  the 
grants  of  land  are  as  extensive  as  ten  thousand  acres  and 
often  more,  a  small  farm  will  sometimes  extend  to  four  thou- 
sand acres;  this  privilege  is  worth  a  great  deal  to  the  newly 
arrived  and  struggling  immigrant. 

Many  bona  fide  English  settlers  were  for  long  refused 
permission  to  take  out  even  a  5O-dollar  or  settlers'  licence, 
but  were  told  by  the  authorities  they  must  take  a  25o-dollar 
licence  if  they  wished  to  kill  game.  It  is  but  the  truth  to 
say  that  5o-dollar  licences  were  only  granted  after  con- 
siderable delay,  and  when  positive  proof  was  forthcoming 
that  land  was  taken  up  and  occupied. 

Now  just  as  soon  as  the  Boers  began  to  arrive  in  any 


362  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

considerable  number,  a  new  order  from  the  local  govern- 
ment is  issued.  Under  it  an  immigrant  may  take  out  a 
5-dollar  licence  good  for  three  months,  which  will  per- 
mit him  to  kill  game  while  he  is  travelling  over  the  country 
looking  for  the  location  on  which  he  wishes  to  settle. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  such  an  arrangement,  if  it  is 
naturally  nettling  to  the  older  British  settlers,  is  at  least 
generous  to  the  Boer.  How  does  the  Dutchman  take  it? 
I  have  heard  married  men  among  the  Boers,  not  young, 
irresponsible  hot  heads,  standing  among  their  friends  and 
with  their  wives  and  children  by  them,  openly  defy  the 
game  wardens  and  police  and  boast  when  these  officers 
question  them  politely,  that  they  had  taken  put  one  such 
licence,  and  that  its  date  would  expire  in  a  few  days;  that  they 
would  not  be  bothered  to  take  out  another,  and  that  they 
would  go  when  they  pleased,  and  shoot  all  the  game  they 
chose,  and  no  one  should  stop  them!  These  men  were 
convinced  that  everyone  was  afraid  of  them,  and  that  the 
privileges  granted  them  by  the  Government  were  only 
granted  because  those  in  authority  did  not  dare  to  do  other- 
wise. Such  men  are  an  undesirable  element  in  the 
country. 

I  have  dwelt  at  length  on  this  case,  because  their  presence 
complicates  seriously  the  native  question.  No  one  know- 
ing the  history  of  Boer  immigration  can  welcome  such 
settlers  as  likely  to  aid  in  establishing  and  maintaining 
honourable  relations  with  the  natives.  Here  another  and 
grave  difficulty  awaits  the  Government.  To  put  it  as 
mildly  as  possible,  the  Dutch  treatment  of  the  aborigine, 
if  in  his  own  view  it  is  just,  could  not  be  called  sympathetic. 
Some  of  the  native  tribes  cannot  at  present  live  without 
the  game.  Their  clothing  and  much  of  their  food  depends 
on  their  hunting.  The  Boer  utterly  wipes  all  game  out,  and 
having  done  so  in  one  country  goes  elsewhere  to  do  the 
same  thing  over  again.  He  despises  the  native,  scorns 


THE    COUNTRY  363 

any  idea  of  educating  or  improving  him,  and  is  naturally 
dreaded  by  the  helpless  being  he  so  ruthlessly  tramples  on. 

Can  a  weak  local  government,  such  as  this  grudgingly 
supported  by  Downing  Street,  successfully  mediate  between 
two  elements  so  opposed  in  tradition  and  interest  ? 

The  policy  that  would  seem  to  offer,  "for  the  present 
distress"  the  best  prospects  of  success  is  one  of  closed  dis- 
tricts. This  plan  has  been  adopted  in  the  case  of  the 
Massai  and  there  is  some  hope  that  it  may  be  extended  so 
as  to  shield  the  far  more  helpless,  and  fully  as  interesting 
peoples  of  Mount  Elgao  and  Nzoia  plateau. 

The  lands  reserved  for  the  Massai  are  closed  to  every- 
one, sportsman  or  traveller,  unless  he  has  procured  from 
the  lieutenant-governor  a  permit  to  enter  them;  any  others 
found  within  such  boundaries,  are  subject  to  arrest. 

If  Elgao,  Maraquette,  Cherangang,  N'dorobo,  Kam- 
asea,  Suk  and  Karamojo  countries  were  declared  closed, 
these  people  would  be  saved  from  the  Boer  intrusion  that 
now  threatens  them,  and  the  Boers  themselves  would 
lose  nothing  by  the  limitation,  for  the  land  they  are  crowd- 
ing into,  the  finest  perhaps  in  B.  E.  A.,  is  a  "no  man's 
land,"  and  has  been  for  years  merely  the  battle  ground  of 
the  tribes. 

The  country  occupied  by  the  tribes  I  name  borders 
the  rich  plateau  of  the  Nzoia;  just  now  the  plateau  is 
covered  with  herds  of  game,  more  numerous,  probably, 
than  anywhere  else  in  Africa.  As  soon  as  the  land  is 
settled,  these  herds  will  disappear,  the  remnants  of  them 
will  seek  grazing  farther  from  Boer  settlements,  in  the 
drier,  less  valuable  regions  bordering  the  plateau.  If  the 
Boer  is  allowed,  he  will  surely  follow  them  into  such 
retreats  and  then  most  certainly  we  shall  hear  of  native 
disturbances. 

Tribes  like  the  Karamojo,  Kamasea,  and  Suk,  are 
still  so  far  away  and  occupy  so  rough  a  country,  that  just 


364  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

now  there  is  no  great  danger  of  their  being  harassed,  but 
the  kindly  Elgao  and  N'dorobo  are  close  neighbours  and 
need  immediate  protection.  "Closing"  their  little  country 
would  be  no  hardship  on  the  incomers,  and  would  save 
the  simple  and  brave  people  from  untold  misery. 

Nairobi  as  it  is  at  present  is  a  fruitful  cause  of  evil  to 
the  whole  country.  Thousands  of  porters  and  labourers 
from  many  different  tribes  come  there  to  get  work.  They 
are  engaged  for  Government  contracts  or  on  hunting 
sefaris,  and  return  there  to  be  paid  off.  There  are  some 
five  hundred  white  men  and  women  in  and  near  the  town, 
and  how  many  Somali  and  Hindi  it  is  not  easy  to  say. 
Probably  at  least  two  thousand.  The  black  population, 
of  course,  varies  a  good  deal,  but  there  cannot  be  fewer 
than  from  ten  to  fifteen  thousand  natives,  and  very  few 
comparatively  of  these  are  married.  When  the  labourers 
and  porters  come  back,  having  worked  on  Government 
contract  or  on  sefari  for  months,  much  of  their  cash  goes 
in  a  wild  spree.  Men  and  women  in  plenty  are  there  to 
grab  from  them  what  they  are  but  too  ready  to  part  with. 
The  results  can  better  be  imagined  than  described. 

British  East  Africa  needs  to-day  the  service  of  the 
ablest  young  men  the  homeland  can  send  her.  There 
amid  her  tribes,  among  her  mountains,  work  that  cannot 
fail  to  influence  the  great  future  awaits  the  doer. 

She  needs,  first,  a  settled  policy  that  shall  free  her 
from  the  unsettling  result  of  whirligig  politics  and  shift- 
ing parties  in  England. 

Second,  she  needs  the  trained  civil  servant  fitted  for 
his  work  among  settlers  and  natives,  reasonably  paid  for 
doing  it,  reasonably  pensioned  when  it  is  done. 

Third,  she  needs  a  first-rate  staff  of  young  men;  vet- 
erinary, agricultural,  medical,  educational,  and  police,  to 
study  the  country,  overcome  its  peculiar  dangers,  solve 
its  problems  and  aid  those  in  authority  by  placing  at  their 


THE  COUNTRY  365 

disposal  the  accurate  information  by  the  help  of  which  the 
Protectorate  may  be  guided  toward  a  lasting  prosperity. 

Fourthly,  she  needs  a  wise  man  and  a  resolute,  with 
some  experience  in  ruling  men,  who  shall  be  supported 
and  encouraged  in  undertaking  one  of  the  most  complex 
and  difficult  tasks  that  England  has  ever  offered  to.  the; 
ability  and  patriotism  of  her  sons. 


CHAPTER  XV 

A  PLEA  FOR  THE  NATIVE  EAST  AFRICAN 
AND  HIS  MISSIONARY 

THE  native  in  East  Africa  is  untold  thousands  of 
years  younger  than  Abraham,  untold  thousands 
nearer  the  monkey,  than  were  Abraham's  Phoenician 
kinsfolk.  Yet  Christian  missions  have  too  often  in  the 
Negroes'  case,  as  in  that  of  other  far  more  enlightened 
peoples,  set  themselves  the  hopeless  and  impossible  task 
of  offering  this  neglected  laggard  of  our  race  the  complex 
and  contradictory  theological  conclusions  that  matured 
mankind  has  only  accepted  after  years  of  discussion  and 
conflict,  and  which  reverent  and  thoughtful  men  to-day 
are  everywhere  modifying  or  casting  aside. 

If  Christian  missions  are  not  succeeding  in  East  Africa 
it  is  not  because  the  missionaries  themselves  are  lacking  in 
ability  or  self-sacrifice.  No  braver  or  more  consecrated 
men  and  women  ever  went  forth  to  the  doing  of  a  thank- 
less task  than  they.  These  men  and  women  who  have 
left  home  and  friends  in  order  to  bring  life  and  hope  and 
freedom  to  the  oppressed  and  exploited  people  of  the  earth, 
have  especially  here,  in  this  continent  of  death  and  lone- 
liness, "not  counted  their  lives  dear  unto  themselves.'* 
None  ever  faced  a  more  dangerous  task  than  they.  Few 
ever  faced  any  task  more  bravely.  But  they  have  not 
succeeded  as  they  should,  and  they  will  not  succeed  as  they 
might,  because  to  take  what  they  bring,  to  do  what  they 
demand,  to  believe  what  they  exact,  is  beyond  the  present 
power  of  the  undeveloped  East  African's  intelligence.  He 
can  love  and  follow  his  missionary  bwana  and  he  does. 

366 


A   PLEA   FOR   THE  NATIVE  367 

He  has  followed  him  even  to  the  death.  See  the  splendid 
bravery  of  the  Waganda  spearman  at  Lubwas'  boma. 
But  he  can  no  more  understand  his  mental  processes  than 
he  can  change  his  soft,  brownish  black  skin  to  the  tint  of 
his.  Abraham  was  not  sufficiently  civilized  to  be  a  mono- 
gamist. I  do  not  think  the  East  African  always  is.  Chris- 
tian missions,  by  insisting  on  a  strictly  monogamous  state 
for  all  natives,  as  a  prerequisite  to  membership  in  the 
Christian  brotherhood,  as  well  as  by  enforcing  systematic 
doctrinal  teaching,  have  often  blocked  their  own  path  cf 
access  to  the  native,  and  have  left,  and  are  leaving,  to 
Mohammedanism,  millions  of  these  people  for  whom  a 
simple  form  of  the  Christian  religion  could  accomplish 
what,  of  course,  Mohammedanism  never  can. 

To  the  rapid  advance  of  Mohammedanism  I  shall  refer 
later.  Here,  as  I  said  above,  I  only  wish  to  state  clearly 
at  the  outset  what  I  believe  to  be  the  one  cause  above  all 
others  why  Christianity  advances  slowly  and  Moham- 
medanism by  leaps  and  bounds.  Africa  needs  a  very 
simple,  very  rudimentary  Christianity.  The  African  is 
incapable  of  understanding  any  other.  (I  have  had  no 
personal  opportunity  of  judging  of  any  missions  other  than 
those  of  East  Africa  and  Uganda.  To  these,  and  these  only, 
I  refer,  but  generally  speaking,  what  is  true  of  East  African 
missions  is  true  of  all  missions  on  that  continent.)  Any 
religion  for  him  is  an  immense  advance.  He  is,  in  his 
native  state,  an  atheist  pure  and  simple.  Christian  mis- 
sions have  been  unable  to  offer  him  such  a  Christianity. 
Partly  because  our  missionaries  have  not  been  trained  to 
do  this.  Partly  because  they  are  bound  too  constantly  by 
the  laws  of  "Medes  and  Persians"  obtaining  in  missionary 
societies  and  directing  committees  at  home. 

The  Mohammedan  missionary,  on  the  other  hand,  has 
done  what  the  European  failed  to  do,  and  hence  his  phe- 
nomenal success.  He  has  given  the  native  as  much  as  he 


368  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

can  at  present  take.  He  has  offered  him  membership 
in  a  great,  free  (no  Mohammedan  can  be  a  slave)  brother- 
hood. And  the  East  African  crowds  to  him,  and  proudly 
steps  forward  into  the  better,  higher  life  offered. 

Africa  is  the  land  of  failures.  We  have  as  yet  no  knowl- 
edge which  enables  us  to  do  more  than  guess  at  the  cause 
of  such  universal  failure.  But  the  sad  fact  remains. 
Religious  and  political  influences  that  have  succeeded  else- 
where have  failed  in  Africa.  If  we  except  the  Egyptians, 
no  African  race  has  risen  to  greatness,  no  African  people 
have  written  their  name  distinctly  on  any  record  of  olden 
or  modern  time.  Africa  proper  has  never  had  a  chance. 
In  oldest  times  as  in  most  modern,  its  fate  has  been  to  be 
ravaged  by  the  gold-seeker  and  the  slave-hunter.  No 
nation  seems  to  have  cared  or  thought  it  worth  while  so 
much  as  to  try  to  bring  to  its  dark  millions  the  blessings 
of  order  and  settled  rule.  Religious  movements  that 
transformed  the  rest  of  the  world  and  gave  or  preserved  to 
mankind  art,  literature,  civilization  and  hope,  in  dark 
tempestuous  times,  if  they  ever  seriously  tried  to  help 
Africa,  failed.  They  seem  indeed,  never  to  have  deeply  pene- 
trated the  continent,  and  soon  lost  foothold  even  on  the 
coast. 

We  know  that  in  the  fifth  century  there  were  no  less 
than  four-hundred  African  bishoprics.  For  a  time  the 
African  branch  of  the  Christian  Church  was  strong  both  in 
members  and  influence;  but  even  in  those  days  of  her 
glory  she  seems  to  have  stood  helplessly  before  the  stupen- 
dous missionary  problem  which  the  dark,  unknown  southern 
continent  presented  to  her,  and  was  contented  to  main- 
tain herself  among  the  civilized  and  luxurious  peoples  of 
the  coast  lands,  while  she  left  unhelped  and  untaught 
the  dark  millions  beyond  the  mountains.  Perhaps  if  she 
had  better  discharged  her  duty  to  them,  they  might  have 
in  turn  succoured  her,  in  her  long  and  bloody  decline. 


1.  A  settler's  beginning 

2.  Missionary  house  on  Mengo  hill  near  Cathedral 


A   PLEA  FOR  THE  NATIVE  369 

So  far,  at  least,  as  Africa  was  concerned,  she  was  not  a 
missionary  church.  And  even  before  the  Mohammedan 
invasion  swept  her  down,  she  was,  as  all  non-missionary 
churches  must  sooner  or  later  become,  a  church  decaying 
and  ready  to  perish. 

North  African  Christianity  of  long  ago  is  represented 
to-day  by  the  Coptic  Church  of  Egypt,  and  the  Christianity, 
such  as  it  is,  of  the  mountaineers  of  Abyssinia.  Favoured 
by  their  mountain  fastnesses,  the  Abyssinians  have  hero- 
ically, for  more  than  twelve  hundred  years  held  their  own, 
a  nominally  Christian  country  islanded  in  a  dark  sea  of 
Mohammedanism.  But  that  the  religion  the  Abyssin- 
ians profess  is  much  in  advance  of  that  of  his  Moham- 
medan neighbour  he  so  cordially  hates,  few  who  know  him 
well  will  be  prepared  to  admit.  Nor  does  the  Copt  repre- 
sent a  high  moral  standard.  In  Africa,  Christianity  may 
be  said  to  have  failed.  Its  tribes  have  had  no  saviour, 
governor,  or  guide.  For  ages,  so  far  as  we  can  tell,  its  teem- 
ing millions  have  stood  still. 

How  was  it  in  those  far-away  days,  when  the  man  was 
slowly  rising  from  the  clod,  when  first  there  came  to  the 
half-beast  savage  a  dawning  sense  of  law  and  beauty, 
that  these  unguided  feet  halted  or  went  astray  ?  Did  some 
far  forefather  throw  life's  once-offered  chance  for  himself 
and  his  offspring  away  ?  Why  for  all  other  peoples  has 
existence  been  on  the  whole  an  advance,  while  for  these 
gentle,  lovable,  dark  men,  who  are  so  easily  made  happy,, 
who  up  to  their  lights  perform  man's  duty  so  well,  there 
has  been  no  progress,  no  marching  forward  but  merely 
an  age-long  period  of  "marking  time"? 

The  hopes  and  longings  that  in  other  branches  of  our 
race  ripened  to  fruitage,  have  never,  so  far  as  we  can  tell, 
blossomed  for  them.  Or  if  they  blossomed,  the  fruit 
withered  in  the  green. 

Why  has  no  influence  from  within  or  without  drawn 


370  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

them  or  spurred  them  upward  ?  What  is  it  that  has  ever 
held  the  black  man  back?  Probably  many  causes  com- 
bined to  produce  this  tragedy  of  arrested  development, 
causes  that  science  is  not  likely  ever  fully  to  know,  for 
the  African,  as  far  as  we  know,  has  no  history  and  no 
tradition. 

But  one  cause,  and  one  most  important  to  the  student 
of  humanity,  we  may  understand  and  be  guided  by.  It 
is  the  particularly  favourable  (sic)  nature  of  the  African 
environment.  In  his  case,  that  richness  and  favourable- 
ness are  in  themselves  his  greatest  hindrance.  The  opulence 
of  his  sunny  native  land  is  his  undoing.  He  scratches  the 
ground  with  wooden  hoe  and  twice  in  the  year  it  answers 
him  with  abundant  harvest.  For  months  in  the  spring- 
time he  can  wander  where  he  will.  So  long  as  he  keeps  out 
of  enemies'  country  he  has  no  need  for  thought  of  the 
morrow.  The  bees  alone  can  and  do  feed  him,  and  the 
honey  bird  daily  guides  him  to  the  luxury  he  craves.  This 
is  on  the  high  tablelands  where  the  thorny  mimosas  grow 
on  hundreds  of  square  miles  of  luxuriant  green  uplands. 
In  the  lower  country,  near  the  coastline,  life  is  easier  still. 
The  sea  is  swarming  with  delicious  fish.  Bananas  grow 
with  little  cultivation  all  the  year  round.  Beans,  sugar- 
cane, cocoa-nut  and  a  great  variety  of  vegetables  ripen 
easily.  The  only  shelter  he  needs  is  quickly  constructed 
from  the  sedges  of  a  neighbouring  river  bank,  or  the  long 
tough  elephant  grass.  So  long  as  he  is  left  in  peace  and  is 
safe  from  the  slave-hunter,  his  is  a  life  of  careless  ease,  of 
sunshine  and  of  plenty.  If  he  is  a  herdsman,  as  are  many  of 
the  more  inland  tribes,  existence  may  be  more  precarious, 
but  under  usual  circumstances  his  life  could  not  be  accounted 
a  hard  one.  His  goats,  sheep,  donkeys,  camels  and  cattle, 
multiply  exceedingly,  and  he  pays  nothing  for  their  pas- 
turing. The  little  boys  and  growing  youths  tend  the  herds 
in  the  daytime,  during  the  night  the  more  fully  grown  men 


A  PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE  371 

supply  a  stouter  guard.  Time  was  when  even  the  posses- 
sion of  a  few  goats  might  be  fraught  with  danger  and  his 
half-starved  cattle  had  to  be  secretly  fed  by  day  and  care- 
fully hidden  in  impenetrable  thickets  by  night,  if  they  were 
to  be  saved  from  the  all  too  frequent  raids  of  the  ubiquitous 
Massai.  These  ever-dreaded  warriors  are  now  under 
control,  having  their  own  pasturages  assigned  them.  They 
may,  and  do  still,  proudly  maintain  that  all  cattle  were  given, 
by  the  Creator  God,  to  the  Massai  and  that  none  but  they 
have  a  right  to  them.  But  in  practice  the  fear  of  losing 
their  own  immense  and  beautiful  herds  renders  them  the 
most  conservative  and  law-abiding  of  the  tribes.  Of  the 
East  African  native  then,  it  may  indeed  truly  be  said, 
that  "His  lines  have  fallen  unto  him  in  pleasant  places  and 
that  he  has  a  goodly  "heritage."  Yet  perhaps  that  it  has 
been  too  goodly,  too  easy,  and  too  luxuriant,  has  been  his 
undoing.  It  has  supplied  him  with  an  environment  in 
some  respects  so  favourable  that  from  the  very  beginning 
there  never  have  been  called  forth  in  him  (by  the  hard  insis- 
tence of  mother  nature)  those  sterner  qualities  that  alone 
have  enabled  the  conquering  races  to  remain  masters  of 
the  field,  in  life's  long  welter  of  battle.  The  struggle  for 
existence  that  has  turned  half-beasts  into  whole  man  has 
been  tempered  fatally  for  him  and  in  consequence  some 
quality  of  character,  some  soul-bone  or  soul-muscle  that 
the  fully  upstanding  man  cannot  live  without,  he  has  never 
developed. 

The  explorers  of  Africa  found  themselves  confronted  by 
well-nigh  insuperable  difficulties  and  dangers.  To  get  on, 
to  force  a  desperate  way  forward,  to  reach  some  hitherto 
unknown  lake,  river,  or  mountain,  these  were  their  goals. 
In  the  attainment  of  them  lay  the  hope  of  reward  and 
recognition.  They  were  only  human,  and  the  swarming 
black  life  that  opposed  or  aided  their  progress,  had  to  be 
beaten  back  or  forced  to  do  their  will,  for  the  white  man  can 


372  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

do  nothing  in  Africa  if  he  be  not  aided  by  the  black.  The 
native  knowing  nothing  whatever  of  the  differences  of  race 
among  Europeans,  naturally  found  it  impossible  to  distin- 
guish between  his  would-be  friend  and  his  would-be  enslaver 
Age-long  experience  had  impressed  one  thing  on  him,  to 
hide  from  the  stranger,  if  he  be  stronger  than  you,  or  to 
fight  him  if  he  be  weaker.  In  any  case,  to  see  he  does  not 
cheat  you,  for  he  is  sure  to  be  your  enemy.  And  so  it  came 
about  that  exploration  was  usually  accompanied  by  blood- 
shedding,  and  explorers  beginning  their  journeys  with  the 
best  intentions  possible  toward  the  natives,  were  only 
able  to  prosecute  or  end  them  by  overcoming  native  resis- 
tance, and  taking  by  force  native  supplies  of  food  or 
transport. 

Some  of  the  greatest  explorers  —  and  the  greatest  of 
the  great,  Livingstone  —  never  fired  a  shot  in  anger,  and 
never  took  a  load  of  food.  But,  then,  such  men  made  the 
dark  continent  their  home,  and  for  the  love  of  its  dark  chil- 
dren they  were  content  to  accept  it  as  a  grave  —  living 
among  the  people  not  to  exploit,  but  only  to  save.  Were 
they  opposed  and  misunderstood,  they  waited  till  oppo- 
sition changed  to  friendship,  or  if  the  evil  doings  of  others 
had  closed  the  path  they  had  chosen,  they  turned  aside  by 
some  other  way.  But  the  explorer  wanted  to  get  on,  the 
ivory-hunter  must  kill  ivory  to  live.  He  often  was  not  a 
bad  man  or  a  cruel,  but  circumstances  were  too  much  for 
him.  If  the  native  would  not  sell  he  found  himself  forced 
to  take.  If  the  naked  warriors  lay  in  ambush  in  the 
grass,  it  was  his  life  or  theirs,  so  he  tramped  forward  and 
his  footsteps  left  a  bloody  trace. 

Inevitable,  perhaps,  but  none  the  less  very  sad.  And 
what  I  want  to  impress  on  my  readers  as  I  briefly  outline 
the  events  that  have  so  lately  taken  place  in  Africa  is  this 
that  we  cannot  look  to  such  men  for  a  reliable  estimate  of 
the  native  character  or  capacity. 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  NATIVE  373 

If  the  explorer  was  obliged  to  be  ruthless  in  Africa, 
if  his  impressions  were  of  necessity  those  of  a  man  met  by 
hostile  forces,  and  so  not  of  highest  value,  what  shall  be 
said  of  the  value  of  the  impressions  poured  forth  by  game 
hunters,  or  those  who  were  but  pleasure  seekers,  during  a 
brief  stay  of  weeks  ? 

These  are,  of  course,  of  still  less  value,  yet  they  have 
not  been  without  their  effect  in  influencing  the  reading  world. 

The  gulf  between  the  white  man  and  the  black  is  wide 
enough  and  profound  enough,  God  knows,  it  needs  not  to 
be  exaggerated,  it  must  somehow  be  bridged.  For  Africa 
is  preeminently  the  black  man's  country,  he  is  necessary 
to  it,  it  cannot  possibly  prosper  without  him.  All  its  pos- 
sible advancement  depends  on  his  advancement.  There 
he  was  found,  and  there  he  will  remain  though  every  white 
man  perish  from  the  continent.  Continental  conditions 
are  being  made  plain,  rivers  traced  to  their  sources,  moun- 
tains robbed  of  their  mystery,  impenetrable  forest  regions 
opened  to  the  light,  animals,  a  few  years  ago  unknown  to 
science,  stand  stiffly  in  our  museums,  and  of  all  these  we 
know  something.  Now  it  is  time  that  human  pity  and 
Christian  compassion  should  turn  with  a  fuller,  deeper 
purpose  to  the  study  of  real  Africa,  to  the  study  of  the  man. 

I  was  often  amazed  at  the  amount  of  half-cooked  food 
my  people  could  consume  at  a  sitting,  or  series  of  sittings. 
In  the  sefari  were  a  few  Kavorondo  and  these  were  cham- 
pions in  this  respect.  Once  I  remember  we  were  camped 
in  a  good  game  country,  and  the  camp  remained  stationary 
for  some  days.  Potio  for  three  days  was  given  out,  that  is, 
each  man  received  four  and  a  half  pounds  of  good,  well- 
ground  Indian  corn  meal.  There  was  at  the  time  a  large 
supply  of  zebra  meat  in  camp,  and  each  man  had  at  the 
very  least  a  ten-pound  chunk  of  this  venison,  of  which  they 
are  inordinately  fond,  for  his  own  eating.  Next  morn- 
ing David  Rebman  (the  headman)  brought  round  the 


374  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Kavorondo  to  my  tent  door.  They  said  they  wanted 
"dowa."  David  explained  that  since  eleven  o'clock  of 
the  day  before  they  had  eaten  all  their  three  days'  potio,  and 
the  zebra  meat  into  the  bargain,  a  truly  appalling  amount. 
This  accounted  for  their  call  on  the  medicine  chest.  I 
asked  them  why  they  had  been  such  gluttons.  Quite 
seriously  they  answered,  "Bwana,  we  had  our  potio,  there 
are  many  lions  about  here  and  some  of  the  men  are  sick. 
You  never  can  tell  when  death  will  come.  We  would  hate 
to  die  before  we  had  eaten  our  potio."  I  told  them  they 
might  fast  for  the  next  three  days.  They  did  not  seem 
at  all  disquieted  at  this  prospect,  but  as  they  went  away 
one  of  them  said  quietly  that  bwana  koubwa  (the  big 
master)  did  not  know  evidently  much  about  eating.  If 
he  would  but  come  to  Kavorondo  land  they  would  gladly 
show  him  how  two  reasonably  competent  Kavorondo  could 
eat  up  a  whole  sheep  at  one  sitting! 

The  incident  illustrates  what  all  who  would  help  him 
must  recognize,  the  crude  savage  has  but  one  aim  and  end 
in  life,  and  his  existence  centres  around  that  aim.  It  is  to 
have  enough  to  eat.  Even  his  wives  are  chiefly  valuable  to 
him  because,  since  they  till  his  shamba,  they  assure  him  his 
food  and  sometimes  his  beer. 

Sometimes  he  seems  to  have  no  affection  for  his  off- 
spring, or  care  for  them  other  than  that  attaching  to  a  more 
or  less  valuable  chattel. 

The  Kikuyu  seem  specially  lacking  in  this  regard. 
A  very  unusually  intelligent  Kikuyu,  a  man  of  considerable 
influence  in  his  own  section  of  that  tribe,  came  with  us  on 
a  long  hunting  trip.  He  was  badly  mauled  by  a  lion,  and 
his  return  home  to  his  four  wives  was  delayed.  When  asked 
what  they  would  do  in  his  absence,  he  replied  that  he  did 
not  care  what  they  did ;  they  must  keep  his  shamba  in  order, 
and  for  the  rest,  if  an  unexpected  child  or  two  should  come, 
it  did  not  matter,  for  they  would  be  his  property.  The 


A  PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE  375 

Kavorondo  living  by  the  great  lake  and  the  Kikuyu,  hold- 
ing the  very  rich,  arable,  forest-protected  regions,  to  the 
south  of  Mount  Kenia,  both  seemed  to  me  to  be  singularly 
backward  tribes.  These  latter  specially  had  a  low  stan- 
dard of  morals  and  are  generally  spoken  of  as  liars  and 
thieves.  They  seem  to  have  adopted  the  vices  of  their 
enemies,  the  Massai,  without  being  able  to  emulate  them  in 
military  organization.  The  Wakamba,  another  large  tribe 
living  east  of  Kikuyu  country,  and  subsisting  partly  on  their 
herds,  as  well  as  by  agriculture,  have  developed  a  tribal  life 
superior  in  some  ways  to  that  of  their  neighbours.  In 
appearance  they  differ,  are  taller,  slenderer,  and  distinctly 
lighter  in  colour,  they  have  frequently  the  slanting  eye  of 
the  Mongolian  type.  They  are  a  very  brave  and  inde- 
pendent race,  are  excellent  hunters,  and,  so  far  as  I  could 
learn,  and  I  had  many  of  them  with  me  for  months  on 
sefari,  are  more  careful  of  their  women  and  children.  I 
have  known  a  Wakamba  to  take  a  long  journey,  and  to 
undergo  great  inconvenience  in  order  to  be  with  his  little 
wife  during  the  time  of  her  confinement. 

A  superficial,  if  sympathetic,  study  of  the  interesting 
group  of  tribes  living  on  and  near  the  beautiful  uplands 
of  North  East  Africa  was,  of  course,  all  that  was  possible 
in  my  case.  I  moved  among  them,  camped  by  their  fire- 
sides and  chatted  night  after  night  to  them,  for  more  than 
a  year,  during  my  two  journeys  through  that  country.  I 
tested  their  courage  and  tried  their  endurance,  and  as  a 
result  I  bade  them  good-bye  with  a  sincere  regret.  I  have 
met  among  the  crowd  of  sportsmen  and  emigrants  whom 
one  comes  across  in  Africa,  some  few  men  only  who,  not 
wholly  occupied  with  the  pursuit  of  their  own  pleasure  or 
gain,  have  taken  time  to  study  the  native.  Such  men,  with- 
out one  exception,  have  a  warm  heart  for  the  East  African 
and  a  more  or  less  firm  belief  in  his  capacity  for  better- 
ment. Still  these  men  seldom  write  books,  for  they  cannot 


376  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

gain  the  public  ear.  The  utter  nonsense,  the  untruthful 
rubbish,  that  appears  in  the  English  and  American  papers 
and  magazines  on  things  East  African  in  general,  and  on 
its  natives  and  game  in  particular,  disgust  and  dishearten 
them.  They  talk  little  and  write  less.  But  they  love  the 
native.  It  is  easy,  very  easy  to  see  what  this  native  lacks. 
As  I  have  said,  his  main  idea  is  to  get  food ;  he  has  no  thought 
for  the  morrow  and  this  is  the  inevitable  consequence  of 
his  lack  of  memory.  He  learns  quickly  and  as  quickly 
forgets,  and  human  memory  is  a  slow-growing  plant.  He 
has  no  traditions  reaching  far  back  into  the  past.  What 
traces  of  tradition  he  has  puzzle  him,  as  completely  as 
they  puzzle  you.  The  reasons  for  the  things  he  does  he 
cannot  give  you;  he  is  incapable  of  measuring  time;  he 
never  knows  his  own  age;  he  is  an  atheist  pure  and  simple, 
having  no  idea  of  God,  or  the  faintest  conception  what- 
ever of  any  future  life.  Even  when  he  has  become  a  declared 
Mohammedan,  his  new  religion  has  not  in  the  least  awakened 
in  him,  as  yet,  any  desire  for  a  life  beyond.  He  believes 
in  witches,  and  dreads,  while  he  consults,  the  witch  doctor. 
He  has  no  sacred  places  (if  we  except  the  metalliferous  cliffs 
of  Elgon  near  which  the  Massai,  with  probable  truth,  say 
that  a  man  cannot  stand  and  live  during  a  storm).  He 
seldom  buries  his  dead,  and  the  hyena  is  his  only  under- 
taker. In  the  case  of  a  great  chief's  death,  or  where  a  man 
or  woman  leave  behind  them  many  children,  the  body 
may  sometimes  be  buried  in  a  shallow  grave  and  possibly 
a  goat  or  sheep  is  killed  above  it.  Missionaries  I  know 
have  fancied  that  in  this  rare  ceremony  they  have  dis- 
covered some  signs  of  a  rudimentary  sacrificial  idea.  But 
I  must  confess  that  the  reason  which  the  natives  insisted 
on  giving,  when  I  questioned  them  particularly  and  repeat- 
edly on  this  subject,  seems  to  me  to  be  the  more  likely  one. 
They  always  said  it  was  to  prevent  the  hyenas  from  dig- 
ging for  the  body  underneath. 


A  PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE  377 

In  their  regard  for  truth  there  is  the  widest  difference 
among  the  tribes  of  East  Africa.     The  remoter,  the  wilder, 
the  tribe,  the  more  truthful  you  will  find  the  tribesman! 
The  Waganda  by  the  lake,  who  are  comparatively  well 
known,  and  among  whom  missionaries,  both  English  and 
French,  have  laboured  with  great  success  for  many  years, 
have  attained  to  a  degree  of  culture  quite  unexampled  in 
East  or  Central  Africa.     These  are  sadly  acknowledged  to 
be,   even  by  their  missionary  guides  and   teachers,   both 
dishonest  and  untruthful.     The  Kikuyu  are  noted  liars  and 
thieves.     The  Massai  and  the  Nandi  will  deliberately  lie  to 
you,  though  I  have  noticed  that  if  you  know  the  man  to 
whom  you  are  appealing,  and  ask  him  directly  to  tell  you 
the  real  truth  or  be  silent,  he  will  pluck  a  blade  of  grass 
and  hold  it  for  a  moment  between  his  fingers;  if,  after  hav- 
ing done  so,  he  repeats  his  previous  statement,  it  will  be  the 
truth.     I   have  in  another  place  written  at  some  length 
of  what  impressed  me  as  the  quite  extraordinary  regard 
for  truth  that  you  find  among  some  of  the  smaller  and 
unknown  tribes.     I  cannot  fancy  any  man  more  scrupu- 
lously accurate  than  the  N'dorobo,  a  tribe  popularly  (and 
I  feel  sure  mistakenly)  supposed  to  be  people  of  a  low  order 
of  intelligence.     The  Elgao  would  proudly  declare  that  no 
liar  could  remain  in  the  tribe.     They  asserted  as  much  of 
their  neighbours,  the  Maraquette,  with  whom  they  were 
not  always  on  the  best  of  terms.     No  scientific  man  could 
possibly  desire  more  careful,  more  accurate,  more  pains- 
taking witnesses  to  facts  that  come  within  their  observation, 
than  were  these  wild  men,  who  had  never  conversed  with 
any  white  man  but  myself  and  my  guide,  Mr.  A.  C.  Hoey. 
Their  power  of  observation  was  excellent,  their  statements 
of  the  incidents  of  a  quite  bloody  battle  in  which  they  had 
engaged  three  years  before  was,  as  I  happened  to  be  able 
to  prove,  wonderfully  free  of  all  exaggeration. 

How  then  can  we  account  for  this  remarkable  difference 


378  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

in  regard  for  the  truth  between  tribes  that  have  lived  near 
each  other  for  ages  ?  Environment  in  part  accounts  for  it. 
These  truth  speakers  have  been  independent,  they  are  men 
of  the  mountain  or  of  the  impenetrable  forest,  no  one  has 
lorded  it  over  them,  while  the  Waganda  have  been  crushed 
under  the  ruthless  tyranny  of  their  kings;  and  the  Kikuyu 
have  been,  till  lately,  a  timid,  ill-nourished  people  cower- 
ing before  the  onslaughts  of  the  irresistible  Massai. 

In  the  case  of  the  Massai  and  of  their  cousins  the  Nandi, 
thbugh  they  do  not  seem  to  place  any  value  on  truth  for 
truth's  sake,  as  do  these  other  peoples,  still,  in  matters 
that  affect  tribal  possessions,  they  are  truthfulness  itself. 

You  can  leave  a  bunch  of  cows,  sheep  or  goats  for  years 
in  a  Massai  or  Nandi  munyata  (village)  and  be  quite  certain 
that  an  accurate  tally  will  be  kept  and  delivered  to  you  of 
every  calf,  lamb  or  kid  born  in  your  absence ;  the  beasts  that 
died  or  were  killed  by  wild  animals,  and  every  particular 
regarding  your  property  will  be  accurately  remembered 
and  accounted  for. 

I  have  known  of  a  man  of  mixed  native  blood,  who  was 
driven  forth  from  the  Nandi  tribe  before  the  Nandi  war  in 
1906  for  (as  he  himself  confessed  to  me)  making  love  ta 
girls  he  had  no  right  to  make  love  to.  He  had  to  escape  by 
night  in  order  to  save  his  life.  Since  his  enforced  flight 
the  war  had  taken  place,  and  the  Nandi  had  lost  by  cap- 
ture one-third  of  their  immense  herds.  He  had  not  ven- 
tured to  visit  the  village  for  five  years,  yet  he  had  no  slight- 
est doubt  that  on  his  return,  a  completely  accurate  account- 
ing would  be  made  with  him,  and  he  would  be  told  just 
how  many  cattle  he  stood  possessed  of. 

Such  a  standard  of  truthfulness  is  remarkable.  Few 
western  American  cattle  owners,  a  few  years  back,  would 
dream  of  exacting  it  or  would  themselves  have  adhered  to  it. 
My  object  in  dwelling  at  such  length  on  the  moral  differ- 
ences I  found  among  the  East  African  tribes,  is  to  supply 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  NATIVE  379 

some  ground  for  the  protest  I  desire  to  make  against  the 
common  statements  you  read  everywhere,  of  the  utter 
immorality  and  untruthfulness  of  the  native  population 
between  the  sea  and  the  great  lakes.  Those  who  bunch 
them  all  together  and  speak  of  them  as  beasts,  liars,  and 
thieves,  prove  simply  that,  though  they  may  have  rushed 
through  the  country,  they  know  little  of  the  inhabitants. 

No  man  who  has  written  on  the  problem  of  East  Africa 
knows  his  subject  better  than  does  Sir  Harry  Johnston.  I 
remember  that  he  somewhere  says:  "It  may  have  required 
one  million  years  for  the  evolution  of  the  brute  into  the  man, 
and  half  a  million  more  to  raise  him  to  the  level  of  the 
Australian  savage.  On  the  other  hand,  a  few  hundred 
years  were  probably  enough  for  the  development  of  the 
savage  Hamitic  races  into  the  civilized  Egyptians/' 

The  best  informed  can  only  venture  a  guess  on  these 
subjects,  and  when  it  comes  to  guessing  on  what  has  been, 
or  what  may  yet  be,  in  Africa,  there  are  everywhere  so 
many  unknown  factors  that  they  who  know  most  will  ven- 
ture fewest  guesses.  But  so  much  "is  certain,  the  East 
African  is  so  far  behind  his  white  instructor  that  the  latter's 
processes  of  thought  are  quite  beyond  his  understanding. 
As  I  said  before,  he  is  an  atheist,  he  has  no  idea  of  causation, 
death  itself  he  makes  no  effort  to  explain,  unless  it  be  to 
attribute  it  to  a  witch  doctor.  Witchcraft  is  not  a  religion 
with  him,  but  perhaps  it  is  the  nearest  thing  he  knows  to 
religion.  The  spirits  help  the  witch  doctors,  the  witch 
doctors  set  the  spirits  at  their  evil  work;  but  back  of  it  all  is 
no  idea  of  Creator  or  of  Supreme  Cause  producing  good 
or  evil.  He  is  content  with  things  as  they  are.  Only  when 
some  calamity  strikes  him  does  he  look  about  for  its  cause, 
and  if  it  continues  he  will  probably  burn  some  witch  doctor 
alive.  If  he  believes  in  nothing  else  he  believes  in  witch- 
craft, and  this,  his  one  belief,  offers  to  the  missionary  a  most 
difficult  obstacle.  Only  as  this  is  eradicated  can  the  native 


380  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

be  helped  and  saved.  His  belief  in  witchcraft  creates  the 
very  thing  that  he  dreads  There  are  witch  doctors  whose 
influence  for  evil  is  appalling.  Taking  advantage  of  the 
power  that  ignorance  is  too  ready  to  give  them,  they  are 
often  wholesale  poisoners.  They  will  force  their  enemies, 
or  the  men  whose  herds  or  possessions  they  covet,  to  sub- 
mit to  some  tribal  ordeal  and  since  all  ordeal  arrangements 
are  in  their  hands,  those  whom  they  wish  to  destroy  die 
by  poison  or  by  the  infliction  of  a  tribal  penalty.  Thus 
their  powers  increase,  as  do  their  possessions,  until  the  day 
arrives  when  native  patience  reaches  its  limit,  and  the 
witch  doctor  has  to  have  a  dose  of  his  own  medicine  forced 
upon  him;  his  thatch  hut  is  set  on  fire  at  night  while  spears 
guard  the  door,  or  he  or  she  is  pegged  down,  under  a  raw 
cow-hide,  early  one  morning,  on  the  hard-trodden  earth,  in 
front  of  the  native  village.  If  the  rain,  promised  by  his 
witchcraft,  comes,  the  hide  will  not  tighten  and  he  can 
escape  with  life,  but  if  no  rain  comes,  the  equatorial  sun 
soon  does  its  work,  and  the  miserable  being  —  male  or 
female  —  underneath,  is  baked  and  suffocated  to  death.* 

Among  some  of  the  tribes,  notably  the  Kikuyu,  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that  witch  doctors  are  often  wholesale 
poisoners.  Among  others,  the  verdict  delivered  by  those 
best  informed  will  be  at  least  one  of  "non-proven."  But 
the  whole  subject  of  witchcraft  and  its  evils  is  one  with 
which  the  white  man  finds  it  most  difficult  to  acquaint  him- 
self. His  intrusion,  however  well  intended  and  even 
necessary,  is  resented.  He  has  but  inadequate  means  of 
reaching  the  facts,  and  when,  as  has  occurred  lately,  the 
cumbrous  and  most  ill-adapted  legal  machinery  of  British 
East  Africa  is  put  in  motion  against  those  natives  who  rise 
in  protest  against  the  intolerable  evil  of  the  witch  doctor, 
I  cannot  but  believe  that  more  harm  than  good  is  done. 

The  criminal  code  of  India  is  the  legal   instrument  of 

*  Two  w  tches  were  thus  executed  by  the  natives  when  I  was  in  Kikuyu  country,  in  the  winter  of  1908. 


A   PLEA   FOR   THE   NATIVE  38r 

the  British  East  African  government,  and  it  is  hard  to  con- 
ceive of  any  code  less  fitted  to  the  needs  of  these  backward 
people.  A  wise  and  firm-handed  local  administrator  can 
accomplish  what  no  high  court  official  at  Mombassa  can 
possibly  achieve.  The  local  civil  servant  knows,  or  should 
know,  his  people;  the  missionary,  if  there  be  one,  certainly 
does,  and  these  can,  and  should,  be  allowed  to  deal  with  the 
problems  that  witch  belief  constantly  gives  rise  to. 

The  Mohammedans  (Somali  or  Hindi)  very  cleverly 
taking  advantage  of  the  natives'  belief  in  witchcraft,  have 
sometimes  gained  an  influence  on  even  the  most  intelligent 
of  them,  which  they  have  no  scruple  in  turning  to  their 
own  advantage.  I  have  told  elsewhere  of  an  instance 
of  this  unscrupulous  deviltry  of  theirs.  They  succeeded 
in  gaining  almost  complete  mastery  on  one  of  the  best 
known  headmen  in  Nairobi,  a  man  who  had  been  an  officer 
in  the  Sultan  of  Zanzibar's  army,  who  had  commanded 
native  soldiers  in  the  desperate  fight  at  Lubwas,  and  who 
had  been  brought  up  from  infancy  as  a  Christian,  a  good 
and  faithful  man,  who  knows  Africa  from  the  sea  to  the 
hills  as  few  know  it.  In  an  evil  hour  for  himself-  -con- 
sulted a  Mohammedan  doctor  at  Nairobi  for  an  affection 
that  had  attacked  his  eye.  They  threw  him  into  an  hyp- 
notic state,  and  while  under  this  influence,  robbed  him  of  a 
large  part  of  his  hard-earned  money.  More  than  that, 
they  persuaded  him  that  no  European  could  do  for  his  eye- 
sight what  they  could  do.  This  I  found  out  with  much 
difficulty,  after  I  had  proposed  to  take  him  to  see  my  doctor 
in  Nairobi.  Nothing  I  could  do  or  say  at  the  time  could 

persuade to  accompany  me.      He  insisted  on  "going 

to  his  own  man,"  as  he  said.  I  had  my  suspicions  aroused 
by  this,  but  as  yet  had  no  idea  how  far  they  had  gone  with 
him  or  how  completely  he  was  under  their  spell.  Arriv- 
ing at  Nairobi,  -  -  disappeared  and  failed  next  day  to  do 
his  work;  this  failure  seemed  to  me  extraordinary,  as  I  had 


382  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

well  proved  his  faithfulness  and  competency.  I  found  him 
with  some  difficulty,  and  then  the  extent  of  the  plot  was 
evident.  Surrounded  by  Mohammedans  he  lay  in  a  deep 
hypnotic  trance,  and  250  rupees,  three  months'  wages,  had 
already  disappeared.  For  several  days  he  was  in  a  dreamy 
and  irresponsible  state.  When  his  mind  cleared  up  I  think 
I  made  him  see  the  extent  of  his  folly,  at  any  rate  he  placed 
himself  under  my  doctor's  care,  and  gave  me  his  word  he 
would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  native  "dowa" 
(medicine) .  These  men,  as  he  said,  had  "  put  dowa  on  him  " 
for  years,  and  thereby  had  probably  robbed  him  of  quite 
half  what  he  had  earned. 

I  have  only  space  to  touch  thus  briefly  on  some  of  the 
most  evident  of  moral  and  social  shortcomings  of  the  East 
African  native.  I  do  not  believe,  nor  do  I  think  that  many 
who  know  the  native  believe,  them  to  be  capable  of  any 
sudden  social,  moral,  or  religious  conversion.  They  must 
be  helped  slowly,  they  are  Nature's  retarded  children,  and 
to  hurry  them,  is  in  the  end  but  to  push  them  backward 
and  downward. 

But  to  deny,  on  the  other  hand,  their  capability  for 
steady  progress  and  development  toward  better  things,  is 
to  deny  the  evidence  of  palpable  facts.  Men  who  have 
travelled  far  in  Africa  are  sometimes  found  saying  that 
the  native  is  without  natural  affection,  that  he  neglects 
his  children,  that  he  casts  out  unburied  his  dead,  that  he 
makes  no  provision  for  the  future,  but  squanders  all  he 
wins.  In  many  cases  this  is  true,  but  in  many  more  it  is 
untrue.  I  have  seen  evidence  often  of  a  tender  care  for 
children,  and  a  willingness  to  provide  for  parents  who  were 
old  and  past  all  work.  If  we  but  knew  better  and  were  in 
a  position  to  enter  into  their  tribal  life,  we  could  judge  as 
now  we  cannot.  Those  whose  testimony  on  such  subjects 
is  of  real  value,  are  the  missionaries.  They  know  the 
native  as  no  traveller,  no  official,  ever  can  (Lieutenant 


A   PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE  383 

Governor  Jackson,  who  knows  the  country  as  few  do, 
said  once  to  me,  that  one  of  the  chief  values  of  the  mis- 
sionary to  the  administration  is  this  priceless  one  that  he 
learns  to  think  in  Kikuyu,  Waganda,  etc),  and  the  mis- 
ionaries  are  far  from  admitting  that  the  native  is  hopelessly 
callous.  Even  such  unsatisfactory  opportunities  as  were 
afforded  me,  were  quite  sufficient  to  convince  me  that  on 
the  score  of  heedless  wastefulness  the  East  African  native 
does  not  deserve  the  universal  censure  poured  on  him. 

I  struggled  with  my  men  and  I  must  admit,  struggled 
in  vain,  to  induce  them  to  save  their  earnings,  which  seemed 
to  melt  away  as  soon  as  we  reached  Nairobi.  I  did  not 
expect  to  be  able  to  accomplish  much  in  the  case  of  the 
casual  porter  who  was  without  home  or  family,  but  it  did 
disappoint  me  when  I  found  that  often  the  hard-earned 
savings  of  the  men  I  had  been  intimately  associated  with 
as  well  as  the  liberal  bakshisch  I  gave  them,  seemed  to  go 
almost  as  quickly  as  did  the  ten  rupees  a  month  of  the  mere 
burden  bearers  of  our  band.  It  took'  me  many  months  of 
quiet  searching  and  hours  of  talk  and  expostulation,  before 
I  got  any  light  in  the  matter;  but  finally  I  did.  The  nomad, 
of  course,  is  not  naturally  given  to  economy.  In  his  long 
past  there  has  been  too  small  a  possibility  of  guarding  his 
little  savings  to  encourage  thrift  in  him.  The  theory  put  in 
practice  by  my  Kavorondo  in  the  matter  of  their  three 
days'  potio,  was  a  philosophic  attitude  enough.  In  days 
gone  by  "lions  were  plentiful,  sickness  prevalent,  potio 
rare,  so  let  us  make  sure  of  a  good  meal  while  nature  allows 
us^a  good  appetite."  African  environment  in  their  case 
had  done  its  work  thoroughly,  so  they  gladly  and  glutton- 
ously set  themselves  to  eat  three  days'  food  in  one.  Evi- 
dently such  people  have  much  to  learn  before  they  become 
a  thrifty  race,  and  we  cannot  hurry  them.  But  they,  even 
they,  have  a  social  economy  of  their  own,  for  which  much 
can  be  said.  In  the  old  book  a  parable  is  told  of  a  certain 


384  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

man  who,  though  unjust  in  his  stewardship,  was  not  lack- 
ing in  worldly  wisdom.  He  distributed  his  gifts  in  such  a 
way  that,  when  he  failed,  his  friends  were  in  honour  bound 
to  give  him  a  helping  hand.  Such  is  to-day  the  settled  habit 
among  the  most  enlightened  East  African  natives. 

I  myself  traced,  again  and  again,  the  money  I  had  given 
to  the  best  of  my  men.  It  took  much  cautious  persever- 
ance on  my  part  to  draw  out  the  information  I  needed,  but 
when  I  had  done  so,  I  found  that  the  money  had  not  really 
disappeared.  It  had  gone  into  the  impoverished  hands 
(not  pockets,  no  native  has  a  pocket,  and  no  one  has  thought 
of  opening  a  savings  bank  for  him)  of  his  multitudinous 
relatives  —  old,  middle-aged,  and  young.  A  poor  porter, 
earning  his  ten  rupees  a  month,  was  often  quite  ready  to 
feed,  clothe,  and  lodge  several  relations  poorer  than  himself, 
while  the  relatives  of  a  man  like  my  Brownie  or  John  or 
David  seemed  to  me  numerous  enough  to  require  a  Nairobi 
"Social  Register"  to  record  them,  and  that  register,  be  it 
understood,  would  include  a  suburban  region  of  several 
hundred  miles!  My  men  were  "in  funds,"  the  friends 
and  relatives  were  not!  That  was  enough.  When  their 
own  time  of  need  should  come,  those  they  had  helped  could 
be  counted  on  to  do  for  them  what  they  without  hesitation 
were  now  doing  for  others.  Better  far,  they  argued,  give  the 
rupees  to  those  they  knew,  than  trust  them  to  some  Hindi 
trader  who  might  run  off  to  India  suddenly;  or  to  bury  them 
in  the  floor  of  the  hut  from  whence  often  they  were  stolen. 

The  East  African  is,  when  once  given  a  chance,  far  from 
being  what  the  unobservant  traveller  might  take  him  for. 
He  is  no  mere  savage  spendthrift,  his  methods  are  his  own, 
his  way  of  arriving  at  them,  also  his  own.  Superficially 
he  may  seem  simplicity  itself,  but  he  is  a  keen  observer, 
and  if  you  succeed  in  winning  his  confidence  you  will  find 
that  often  he  has  good  reason  for  what  he  does. 

I  must  touch  next  on  another  supposed  evidence  of  the 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  NATIVE  385 

native's  hopelessness,  his  incapacity  or  unwillingness  to 
undertake  and  carry  through  any  hard  work.  On  every 
hand  this  is  the  common  accusation  brought  against  all 
natives  alike,  brought  by  those  who  have  had  little  oppor- 
tunity to  study  their  present  condition  or  have  taken  any 
thought  of  their  past  unfavourable  environment.  The 
charge  in  many  instances  is  entirely  and  in  many  more  par- 
tially untrue. 

Give  the  East  African  the  work  that  he  is  fitted  for,  be 
patient  with  him,  be  just  and  at  the  same  time  be  firm, 
and  he  can  do  and  often  has  done,  extraordinarily  good 
work.  On  the  other  hand,  put  him  to  a  work  that  his 
ancestry  has  for  ages  unfitted  him  for,  put  the  Massai  cattle- 
herder  (if  you  can  catch  him!)  to  hoeing  the  veldt,  or  the 
corn-raising  Kikuyu  to  heavy  lumbering  or  raising  rail- 
road embankments,  and  the  result  will  be  unsatisfactory 
in  the  extreme.  Put  him  under  the  control  of  men  who 
cannot  speak  his  language,  who  take  no  trouble  to  under- 
stand him,  who  have  little  patience,  and  he  will  most  likely 
cause  no  end  of  trouble  and  annoyance.  East  Africa  is, 
from  the  white  man's  point  of  view,  a  land  of  hurry.  He 
rushes  out  to  it,  he  entertains  all  sorts  of  unreasonable 
expectations  regarding  it.  It  is  a  "get  rich  quick"  land 
for  him.  Laws,  regulations,  natives,  beasts  —  all,  exist 
only  for  his  pleasure  and  profit.  He  would  gladly,  were 
he  allowed  to  do  so,  exploit  them  all  for  his  own  purpose, 
and  go  home  as  soon  as  he  was  assured  of  a  competence. 
In  this  spirit  he  is  prepared  to  deal  with  the  native  and, 
after  his  own  ideas,  be  fair  and  just  to  him.  But  still,  to 
hold  him  as  nothing  more  than  a  necessary  pawn  in  the 
winning  of  his  adventurous  game,  as  something  to  serve  his 
needs,  to  supply  him  with  the  labour  he  must  have,  the 
unfortunate  native  must  cease  to  be  a  nomad  and  must 
be  at  his  beck  and  call,  to  do  the  work  he  requires  for  such 
wages  as  he  can  afford  to  pay. 


386  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Only  yesterday  this  native  was  a  nomad  or  a  slave. 
If  he  had  luck  and  his  tribe  had  maintained  its  indepen- 
dence, in  that  case  his  own  little  shamba  cultivated  by  his 
wives,  gave  him  all  he  needed.  In  any  case,  he  worked 
only  because  he  had  to  allay  the  pangs  of  hunger.  To 
store  up  goods,  to  lay  plans  for  a  large  increase  of  cattle, 
meant  additional  risk  in  a  life  already  too  full  of  it.  Eng- 
lish and  German  occupancy  have  modified,  for  him,  these 
conditions  during  the  last  fifteen  years  at  most.  Is  it  reas- 
onable, then,  to  expect  that  people  who  have  only  emerged 
from  such  a  social  chaos  for  so  little  a  space,  should  sud- 
denly change  the  ingrained  habits  and  tastes  of  untold  cen- 
turies at  the  half-understood  command  of  some  strange 
white  man  ?  Yet  this  is  what  the  settler  expects. 

Give  the  native  time  and  some  little  chance,  and  he  soon 
shows  aptitudes  which  are  full  of  promise  for  his  own  future 
and  that  of  the  country.  See  him  work  when  he  is  accus- 
tomed to  the  work  exacted  of  him.  As  a  burden-bearer  he 
is  not  the  child  of  yesterday.  He  has,  or  some  of  his  people 
have,  carried  burdens  for  generations.  In  the  line  of 
steady,  patient,  successful  burden-bearing  under  circum- 
stances of  extreme  difficulty,  he  is  probably  without  a  rival 
on  the  globe.  He  will  travel  farther  and  faster,  he  will 
endure  greater  hardships,  and  more  successfully  resist 
disease,  eat  more  frugally  and  cost  less  than  any  other  human 
burden-bearer  on  earth.  Carrying  sixty  to  ninety  pounds 
a  man,  from  fifteen  to  twenty-five  miles  a  day,  through 
poisonous,  thorny  thickets,  or  malarial  swamps,  over  lava- 
strewn  stretches,  under  tropical  sun,  from  early  morning 
till  late  evening  for  several  thousand  miles,  I  have  seen 
him  march;  a  cupful  of  coarse  meal  or  gritty  rice  and  beans 
his  daily  ration.  And  he  does  it  all  right  cheerfully,  too, 
starting  with  a  song  in  the  morning,  and  tramping  into  camp 
to  the  wild  notes  of  his  reed  or  horn  whistle  in  the  evening. 
Six  shillings  a  month  and  finding  his  own  rations  is  his  pay 


A  PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE  387 

in  Uganda  and  British  Central  Africa.  In  British  Central 
Africa  things  are  dearer,  so  he  gets  his  potio  and  ten  rupees 
a  month. 

So  much  for  the  African  porter.  The  longer  I  knew 
him,  the  more  I  liked  and  honoured  him.  He  is  far  indeed 
from  being  a  hopelessly  "lazy  savage."  I  learned  to 
respect  him  as  a  man  who  sets  himself  to  earn  the  money  he 
is  paid,  who  gives  what  he  promises  to  give  and  gives  it, 
on  the  whole,  ungrudgingly.  But  I  grew  to  wonder  increas- 
ingly at  the  pent-up  stores  of  energy  within  him.  My 
porters  recuperated  quickly,  even  when  they  were  very 
severely  exhausted  at  the  close  of  a  long  and  possibly 
waterless  march.  No  white  man's  head  or  shoulders 
could  possibly  have  endured  the  strain  laid  on  theirs. 
They  would  lie  down  for  a  few  moments  —  and  a  few 
moments  seemed  enough  —  then,  without  orders,  in  the 
vast  majority  of  cases,  the  remaining  work  was  undertaken, 
and  that  work  was  considerable.  Much  tent  pitching,  a 
hard  and  difficult  task,  large  piles  of  wood  to  be  cut,  with 
worse  than  indifferent  axes  and  pangas  (native  knives),  a 
platform  of  logs  and  scrub  to  be  laid  for  the  loads  so  as 
to  keep  them  above  the  damp  ground,  and  be  it  remem- 
bered there  is  no  such  thing  as  soft  wood  in  Africa,  for 
the  softest  wood  there  is  much  tougher  than  our  oak.  When 
cut,  too,  the  wood  had  often  to  be  carried  for  a  distance  of 
more  than  a  mile;  then  there  are  bomas  of  thorn  scrub  for 
the  mules  and  donkeys,  and  lastly  the  work  to  be  done 
for  themselves,  tent-pitching,  wood-gathering,  and  cooking. 
The  day  had  begun  at  4.30  A.  M.,  the  big  meal  of  the  day 
would  not  be  over  till  seven  at  night,  and  surely  the  sefari 
has  done  enough  to  use  up  its  energy.  But  no,  far  from  it: 
in  the  centre  of  the  camp  burns  the  bwana's  fire,  where 
the  askari  stand  on  guard  in  a  wide  horse-shoe  curve  around 
it,  the  porters'  fires  are  lit,  and  little  yellow  spires  of  flame 
rise  with  scarcely  a  waver  heavenward  in  the  windless, 


388  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

blue-black  African  night.  All  now  is  jollity,  chatter,  and 
song.  Someone  starts  a  dance,  and  soon,  tribe  not  to  be 
outdone  by  tribe,  they  all  join  in.  In  swaying  line  or  bend- 
ing circles,  scores  of  naked  black  figures  dance  to  their 
own  chanting  with  immense  energy  and  untiring  enthusiasm. 

That  these  simple,  lovable  folk  have  been  left  behind, 
in  the  great  world  race,  is  true;  but,  if  so,  it  is  no  less  true 
that  the  divine  sources  of  energy,  so  needful  to  all  progress, 
are  still  most  surely  ebullient  within  them.  They  can  toil 
without  exhaustion  and  after  the  severest  toil  have  plenty 
of  surplus  energy  left,  for  play.  In  thirteen  months'  daily 
marching,  among  a  band  that  generally  numbers  over 
one  hundred  men,  I  only  knew  of  one  serious  quarrel. 
Who  shall  say  that  of  such  material  good  men  cannot  be 
made  ?  Who  shall  deny  to  such  a  race  a  future  ? 

By  the  shores  of  the  great  lake  dwell  the  naked  tribe 
of  the  Kavorondo.  They  are  supposed  to  be  the  laziest 
and  least  enterprising  of  people.  Yet  the  supercargo  of 
the  smart  lake  steamer  told  me  that  his  trained  and  organ- 
ized band  of  Kavorondo  longshoremen,  could,  if  he  called 
on  them,  work  for  sixteen  hours  at  a  stretch,  without  food, 
handling  heavy  steam  freight  on  a  sun-smitten  wharf,  in  an 
atmosphere  as  enervating  as  can  be  found  in  East  Africa, 
and  that  after  this  long  stint  of  work  was  once  done,  they 
would  race  up  and  down  the  wooden  pier  at  Kasumo  for 
the  mere  fun  of  the  thing!  Then,  be  it  remembered,  these 
men  were  well-fed,  kindly  and  justly  treated,  and  taught 
to  take  a  pride  in  their  work.  Vacancies  in  the  band 
could  always  be  filled  at  once. 

The  Kikuyus  first  met  the  white  man  only  a  few  years 
ago.  They  had  held  their  own  against  the  Massai  with 
exceeding  difficulty,  and  owing  chiefly  to  the  fact  that  a 
thick  belt  of  primeval  forest  defended  their  rich  agricultural 
country.  During  their  past  but  small  opportunity  was 
afforded  them  to  accumulate  anything.  The  richer  their 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  NATIVE  389 

shambas  or  the  larger  their  goat  or  sheep  herds,  the  greater 
became  their  danger.  English  occupation  meant  the 
immediate  curbing  of  Massai  aggressiveness;  the  Kikuyu 
won  a  breathing  spell.  What  has  been  the  result  ?  Within 
fifteen  years  the  tribe  has  changed.  They  are  to-day  rais- 
ing great  quantities  of  grain,  and  their  men  and  women 
are  fast  becoming  the  porters  and  field-workers  of  East 
Africa.  Only  four  years  ago  a  Kikuyu  could  not  be  per- 
suaded to  take  any  work,  however  well  paid,  outside  the 
narrow  limits  of  his  own  country.  He  would  throw  down 
his  burden  and  slip  into  the  bush  if  he  found  the  sefari's 
route  pointed  away  from  his  home.  He  might  be  convoyed 
or  guarded  to  some  point  on  the  railroad  where  he  had 
work  given  him,  but  the  terror  of  the  unknown  would  finally 
prove  too  much  for  him.  Leaving  his  job,  sacrificing  his 
pay,  the  timid  savage  would  slink  away,  perhaps  to  die  by 
the  roadside,  as  he  staggered  toward  the  distant  slope  of 
Kenia,  his  forest  home.  He  is  now  another  man;  he  is 
his  own  man,  and  the  small  cash  of  the  country  is  finding 
its  way  into  his  pocket;  he  is  richer  than  any  other 
native,  with  the  exception  of  the  Massai.  He  is,  of  course, 
still  deeply  marked  with  the  moral  scars  of  his  long 
misery;  he  is  a  liar  and  a  thief,  and  parts  quite  readily 
with  his  women  folk,  but  he  is  undoubtedly  on  "the  march 
upward." 

I  stood,  one  muggy  morning  watching  a  band  of  Waganda 
carrying  earth  for  the  foundation  of  a  new  wing  to  the 
miserably  dirty  little  hotel  at  Eutebbi  (lately  the  official 
capital  of  Uganda) .  Each  man  had  an  empty  kerosene  can, 
a  box  of  some  kind  or  a  basket,  on  his  head  into  which  he 
scooped  the  dirt  he  was  removing  with  a  small  hoe.  The 
earth  had  to  be  excavated  from  one  place  and  dumped  at 
another.  The  journey  was  forty  yards;  the  men  strolled 
along  in  line;  if  one  of  them  wanted  to  converse  with  a  pass- 
ing friend  he  did  so  leisurely  and  all  the  line  waited  till  the 


390  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

conversation  ended  before  proceeding.  Each  of  them 
balanced  his  load  with  one  hand  while  he  held  a  long  pipe 
of  tobacco  to  his  mouth  with  the  other.  One  by  one  they 
tilted  their  loads  on  to  the  heap  of  earth.  I  examined  the 
loads  carefully,  they  did  not  average  five  pounds.  I  could 
scarcely  believe  my  eyes,  but  so  it  was.  Some  one  of  their 
number  had  settled  for  all  the  gang  what  the  load  should 
be;  there  was  scarcely  an  ounce  of  difference  in  the  weight, 
and  the  Waganda  were  intelligent  enough  to  know  what 
not  to  do.  Their  wage  was  twopence  a  day,  it  was  not 
worth  a  penny.  A  few  hours  afterward  I  found  myself 
in  a  'rickshaw  bound  for  Mengo,  the  native  capital,  twenty- 
four  miles  away  —  one  Waganda  in  the  shafts,  three  behind. 
The  road  for  this  country  was  good  but  very  hilly,  and  in 
places  very  soft.  The  'rickshaw  was  a  clumsy  native-made 
affair,  the  wheels  heavy  enough  for  a  pony-cart,  and  far 
heavier  than  those  of  a  well-made  American  buggy.  I 
weighed  two  hundred  pounds,  my  friend  one  hundred  and 
forty;  and  we  had  cameras  and  two  good-sized  bags,  a  heavy 
load  for  men  to  draw  in  a  truly  awful  machine  from  a 
traction  point  of  view.  Our  few  Waganda,  however, 
made  nothing  of  it,  and  went  off  in  the  sweltering  heat, 
chanting  one  of  their  endless,  grunting  songs.  When  the 
road  was  good  we  made  at  least  eight  miles  the  hour.  We 
did  the  twenty-four  miles  with  one  change  of  men,  without 
one  moment's  stop  in  four  hours.  Considering  the  cir- 
cumstances, this  was  surely  extraordinarily  good  going. 
The  men  at  first  sweated  profusely,  but  before  covering 
twelve  miles  they  had  run  themselves  dry.  Only  one  of  the 
eight  men  employed,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  drank  a  drop  of 
water  during  the  whole  run.  The  willingness  and  hearti- 
ness with  which  the  whole  thing  was  done,  and  their  evident 
content  with  the  modest  tip  given  them,  of  three  shillings 
for  the  whole  eight,  was  impressive.  The  men  came  from 
the  same  tribe  and  had  about  the  same  physique  as  my 


A   PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE  391 

friends  of  the  earlier  morning,  but  one  group  had  found  an 
employer  who  organized  and  directed  them,  the  other  had 
not  and  therein  lay  the  difference. 

These  Waganda  are  everywhere  spoken  of  as  being 
the  most  advanced  and  the  most  readily  civilized  of  all  the 
Central  African  tribes.  And,  after  seeing  the  houses  they 
have  builded  for  their  kings,  and  the  fine  brick  cathedral 
(it  seats  four  thousand  people,  if  I  remember  rightly)  they 
have  put  up  for  their  Protestant  worship,  it  is  easy  to  under- 
stand the  optimism  of  those  missionaries,  who  cheered  all 
Christians  the  world  over,  by  declaring  that  a  great  Chris- 
tian people  would  soon  arise  to  power  on  the  shores  of  these 
great  lakes.  But  the  best  of  us  are  at  times  apt  to  forget  that 
neither  in  Africa  nor  yet  in  Europe  does  tyranny  make  for 
true  civilization.  We  stand  aghast  to-day  at  the  long- 
drawn-out  blood-letting  that  is  bleeding  Russia.  White 
men  lose  their  heads  there;  they  have  been  themselves 
crushed  for  so  long  that  they  seem  to  have  lost  all  belief  in 
any  other  methods  than  those  of  "crushing."  They  have 
been  the  victims  of  barbarism,  cruelty,  and  ignorance  for 
so  long,  that  cruelty  and  injustice  have  become,  in  their 
eyes  at  least,  subordinate  and  inconsiderable  evils.  Tyranny 
has  eaten  away,  as  an  awful  natural  law  decrees  that  it 
shall,  something  of  their  moral  consciousness. 

So,  in  the  Wagandas'  case,  the  tyranny  of  their  kings 
has  left  the  people  lacking  in  sturdy  uprightness.  (I 
speak  here  with  hesitation,  my  knowledge  of  the  Waganda 
being,  of  necessity,  a  second-hand  knowledge:  I  did  not  live 
among  them  as  I  did  among  the  tribes  farther  east,  though 
I  had  plenty  of  opportunity  of  consulting  those  who  had 
intimately  known  them  for  years.)  The  Waganda  are 
untruthful  and  dishonest;  they  have  a  cringing  way  with 
them  which  does  not  appeal  to  the  stranger.  For  upright, 
self-respecting  manliness,  they  did  not  seem  to  me  to  com- 
pare at  all  with  the  wilder  and  far  poorer  people  of  the  higher 


392  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

plateaus  between  Victoria  Nyanza  and  the  sea.  But  who 
shall  blame  the  Waganda  for  cringing  ?  He  has  learned 
to  cringe  to  save  his  life.  Unlike  his  neighbours  to  east- 
ward, he  has  acquired  traditions;  he  can  name  for  you  his 
kings  (running  backward  for  at  least  five  hundred  years), 
and  many  of  these  have  been  bloody  monsters.  Mtessa, 
when  the  humour  took  him,  would  have  a  long  trench  dug 
in  the  porous  earth,  and  above  it  he  would  have  men's 
throats  cut,  till  the  flowing  blood  filled  the  trench  to  the 
brim;  and  that  was  only  a  few  years  ago.  Can  a  people  be 
expected  to  emerge  quickly  from  a  rule  such  as  that  into  an 
honourable,  self-controlled  manner  of  living  ?  To  expect 
such  a  thing  is  to  expect  the  impossible. 

I  have  said  nothing  about  the  native  as  a  craftsman, 
but  undoubtedly  he  has  in  him  the  makings  of  a  very 
good  craftsman,  and  no  one  has  made,  as  yet,  much  of  an 
effort  to  help  him  along  this  most  evident  line  of  advance.* 
On  any  sefari  it  is  easy  to  pick  out  a  number  of  handy 
men.  I  have  written  elsewhere  of  the  variety  of  their 
accomplishments.  The  Wakamba  make  quite  beautiful 
iron  and  brass  work.  I  have  seen  some  chains  made  by 
them,  that,  considering  the  coarseness  of  their  tools,  were 
wonderfully  fine.  Several  tribes  smelted  their  own  iron  and 
sometimes  their  copper.  In  parts  of  East  Africa  they 
understand  irrigation,  and  streams  of  water  are  carried 
across  wide  chasms,  and  along  steep  mountain  sides  with 
no  small  engineering  skill. 

The  point  that  I  wish,  then,  to  insist  on,  even  at  the 
risk  of  wearying  my  readers,  is  this:  these  people  must 
have  time  given  them.  They  are  full  of  promise;  those 
who  know  them  always  love  them.  I  think  I  am  safe  in 
saying  so  much.  I  do  not  mean  the  missionaries  only, 

*  Good  industrial  schools  are  now  established  by  the  German  authorities  at  Tango.  A  very  small 
attempt  at  such  teaching  may  be  seen  here  and  there  in  the  Protestant  or  Catholic  Mission  schools, 
but  this,  the  one  all-important  method  of  education  for  the  African,  has  received  little  attention. 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  NATIVE  393 

but  almost  all  the  men  I  have  met,  in  Africa  and  out  of  it, 
who  have  lived  among  the  natives  and  studied  them,  love 
them  and  are  hopeful  of  their  future. 

Four  things  the  native  must  have  accorded  to  him: 
patience,  sympathy,  leadership,  and  a  settled  policy  of 
government.  He  has  sometimes,  though  only  very  recently 
and  partially,  had  the  two  first.  He  has  never  yet  had  the 
two  last,  and  till  he  has  had  all  four  for  generations,  he 
surely  has  had  no  fair  chance.  His  past  has  been  unevent- 
ful and  gloomy.  Foreign  adventurers,  caring  nothing  for 
him,  have  ravaged  his  coasts.  Tribal  tyranny  has  drenched 
with  blood  the  interior.  Deserts,  marshes,  jungles  have 
cut  him  off  and  hemmed  him  in. 

From  the  outside  world,  and  until  quite  recently,  no 
beneficent  influences  have  ever  reached  the  East  African. 
He  is  but  a  mere  child;  he  has  his  long  life  before  him. 
Give  him,  then,  time  and  give  him  a  chance. 

Of  all  the  faults  his  critics  ascribe  to  the  East  African, 
of  none  is  he  more  commonly  accused  than  of  ingratitude, 
and  in  my  judgment  that  charge  is  not  deserved.  He  is  a 
savage,  with  the  savage's  power  of  memory,  undeveloped. 
He  readily  forgets  both  evil  things  and  good.  He  acquires 
knowledge  quickly  and  his  untrained  mental  faculty  as 
quickly  forgets  it.  But  he  is  far  indeed  from  being  ungrate- 
ful or  unfaithful  to  any  trust  he  has  accepted.  I  do  not 
speak  for  myself  alone,  I  speak  for  all  the  men  I  have  met 
who  know  the  country  and  have  tested  the  native,  when 
I  say  that  no  more  faithful  attendant  in  danger  exists  than 
the  East  African  gunboy.  He  takes  his  life  in  his  hand 
daily,  he  follows,  often  if  allowed  to,  precedes,  his  bwana 
as  they  together  creep  along,  foot  by  foot,  yard  by  yard,  in 
the  treacherous  grass  that  may  hide,  at  but  a  few  feet's  dis- 
tance, the  deadliest  antagonist  that  the  scientifically  equipped 
hunter  can  face  —  the  wounded  lion  or  the  waiting  buffalo. 
He  pays  heavily,  too,  for  his  daring;  again  and  again  he  is 


394  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

cruelly  mauled.  A  man  I  had  on  my  first  trip  was  mauled 
by  a  wounded  lion  twice  in  six  months  and,  though  his 
master  was  a  cowardly  fellow,  who  could  not  shoot  straight, 
and  ran  away  and  left  him,  the  first  time,  Malin  stayed 
faithfully  by  him  since  he  had  engaged  himself  for  the  trip; 
so  he  was  deserted  in  danger  a  second  time,  and  almost  lost 
his  life.  Long  weeks  of  pain,  sometimes  of  permanent 
disablement,  and  hence  poverty,  await  these  poor  fellows, 
and  sometimes  they  are  killed  then  and  there.  They  are 
not  allowed  to  shoot,  for  their  business  is  to  have  the  gun 
they  carry,  ready  at  an  instant's  notice,  to  be  handed,  loaded, 
to  their  master.  If  they  could  shoot  in  self-defence  it  would 
not  mend  matters,  as,  for  some  strange  reason  which  I 
am  quite  unable  to  account  for,  even  the  bravest  of  them 
can  hit  nothing  with  a  rifle.  Their  life  is  thus  absolutely 
dependent  on  the  skill  and  courage  of  the  stranger  they 
so  resolutely  follow.  The  time  was,  when  almost  all  sports- 
men took,  as  gunboys,  the  Somali.  The  Somali  is  coura- 
geous enough.  In  those  days  when  he  was  known  to  the 
white  man,  he  agreed  with  his  master  in  despising  the 
natives  of  whom  he  knew  nothing.  Neither  Somali  nor  white 
man  trusted  the  native ;  he  was  fit  for  porterage  and  nothing 
more,  though  occasionally  he  might  act  as  guide ;  but  to 
stand  fast  in  a  tight  place  —  this  no  one  expected  of  him. 
Then  why  under  such  circumstances,  should  he  stand  ? 
He  had  certainly  nothing  to  gain  by  it,  so  he  ran  away. 
But  the  Somali's  faults  are  serious  ones.  Though  no 
coward  in  danger,  he  is  so  easily  excited  that  it  takes  much 
trouble  to  keep  him  from  firing  off  the  rifle  he  carries.  He 
is  generally  a  poor  shot,  with  the  further  drawback  of  having 
a  profound  belief  in  his  own  capacity  for  shooting!  He 
does  not  compare  to  the  native  East  African,  as  a 
woodsman,  a  stalker,  or  a  friend.  He  is  insolent,  most 
untruthful,  and  exceedingly  careless  in  handling  his  (or 
your)  gun. 


A  PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE  395 

So  it  came  about  by  degrees  that  the  despised  Wakamba, 
Massai  or  N'dorobo  had  a  chance  given  him  to  prove  what 
he  could  do,  and  to-day  the  men  who  know,  the  men  who 
understand  the  pursuit  of  dangerous  game,  invariably  place 
confidence  in  the  native  rather  than  in  the  much-vaunted 
Somali. 

I  cannot  conceive  of  men  more  brave,  of  men  more  abso- 
lutely devoid  of  all  nervousness,  men  more  utterly  faithful 
and  self-sacrificing  than  those  good  fellows  who  came  with 
me.  My  one  difficulty  with  them  was  to  prevent  them 
from  thrusting  their  own  bodies,  in  front  of  mine,  into  the 
dangerous  cover  where  death  lurked.  I  found  myself 
one  morning  in  long  grass,  with  lions  all  round  me,  all  of 
them  unseen,  two  of  them  wounded,  deep  nerve-shaking 
grunts  coming  from  all  sides  but  a  few  yards  away.  My 
Somali  danced  hither  and  thither  like  a  nut  on  a  hot  frying- 
pan;  my  Wakamba  "Brownie"  never  moved  a  muscle. 

One  thief,  and  one  only,  I  had  in  my  sefaris,  in  thirteen 
months'  travelling.  He  stole  my  precious  letter  bag,  photos, 
hunting  knife,  and  seventy-five  rupees.  When  I  got  back 
to  Nairobi  I  talked  the  matter  over  with  Brownie.  The 
man  was  a  Wakamba,  one  I  had  taken  on  at  Nairobi  for 
a  short  sefari  only.  I  asked  Brownie  what  he  could  do  to 
catch  the  thief  and  save  the  honour  of  his  people;  he  under- 
took to  do  his  best.  He  took  up  the  man's  trail,  followed 
him  for  several  hundred  miles,  first  to  one  outlying  village 
then  to  another,  and  finally  at  Kilinduni,  the  port  of  Mom- 
bassa,  ran  him  to  ground.  The  job  cost  both  of  us  much 
trouble  and  me  not  a  little  expense.  I  may  mention  inci- 
dentally that  the  affair  was  undertaken  at  the  government's 
request,  and  though  I  did  thereby  a  real  service  to  the 
authorities  by  bringing  to  justice  a  most  cunning  criminal, 
I  could  not  even  procure  for  Brownie  so  much  as  a  pass  on 
the  railroad  from  Mombassa  back  to  Nairobi,  but  had  to 
pay  this  expense  myself.  They  muddle  things  strangely 


396  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

between  the  different  departments  and  the  Uganda  Rail- 
road in  British  East  Africa. 

No,  backward  the  East  African  may  be,  mysteriously 
retarded  he  has  been,  but  unfaithful  or  ungrateful  he  surely 
is  not.  Let  the  story  of  the  fight  at  Lubwas  Boma  in  the 
days  of  the  Uganda  mutiny  bear  witness. 

The  story  of  that  mutiny  is  not  yet  known  as  it  should 
be.  It  is  a  story  of  mismanagement  and  muddle,  not  so 
much  by  the  men  on  the  spot,  as  by  the  authorities  at  Down- 
ing Street,  who  did  not  grasp  the  situation  themselves, 
and  would  not  listen  to  those  who  did.  It  is  the  story,  so 
often  repeated  in  the  history  of  England's  Colonial  enter- 
prises, of  a  little  band  of  neglected  and  unsupported  white 
folk,  making  good  at  last  for  the  Homeland's  sake,  against 
overwhelming  odds.  It  is  also  the  story  of  how  the  black 
man  that  had  learned  to  trust  the  leadership  of  the  mis- 
sionary, gladly  threw  his  life  away  to  support  a  cause  he 
knew  nothing  of,  save  that  it  was  the  missionary's  cause. 

The  Soudanese  battalions,  whose  mutiny  cost  Eng- 
land so  dear,  would  never  have  mutinied  if  they  had  been 
accorded,  not  sympathy,  but  scantest  justice.  England 
broke  faith  with  them,  orders  from  home  forced  their 
officers  to  break  faith,  and  the  men,  under  new  and  unknown 
leaders  cannot  be  much  blamed  for  what  they  did.  That, 
however,  is  a  long  and  a  sad  story,  and  as  usual,  the  heavy 
bills  had  in  time  to  be  paid  in  precious  blood  and  outpoured 
treasure. 

But  it  was  the  heroic  aid  given  to  England  by  the 
Waganda,  for  whom  England's  missionaries  had  done  so 
much,  that  broke  the  heart  of  the  mutiny  almost  at  the 
very  beginning,  and  saved  for  England  the  immensely 
important  strategic  position  she  held  on  the  great  lakes 
and  at  the  sources  of  the  Nile. 

The  story  of  the  fight  at  Lubwas  Boma,  in  1897,  has 
been  told,  yet  few  have  heard  it.  It  is  a  great  story  and 


A   PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE  397 

needs  a  Kipling's  pen  to  do  it  justice.  It  is  the  story  of  a 
long,  hot,  bloody,  morning's  righting,  from  sunrise  till 
eleven  o'clock.  It  is  the  story  of  how  the  Waganda  rallied 
to  the  help  of  the  white  man,  because  the  white  man  had 
first  come  to  them  in  the  blessed  guise  of  their  mission- 
aries. His  enemies  were  their  enemies,  his  friends,  their 
friends.  It  is  the  story  of  how,  ill-armed  as  they  were,, 
without  discipline,  led  by  one  of  these  same  missionaries  - 
Mr.  Pilkington  —  they  charged  and  charged  again,  on  hill- 
top crowned  by  deepcut  trench  and  heavy  thorn  boma. 
Their  opponents  were  trained  and  disciplined  soldiers, 
inured  for  years  to  war;  a  race  of  men  accustomed  to  con- 
quer, and  these  fought  from  behind  a  stockade  strong  and 
high  and  from  whose  trenched  corners  a  new  and  deathly 
engine  of  war,  the  Maxim,  cut  them  down  in  swaths  and 
heaps.  Yet,  on  that  morning,  these  men,  in  a  quarrel,  not 
their  own,  threw  away  their  lives  gladly,  tore  at  the  boma 
with  their  hands,  and  retreated  only  when  their  war  chief 
and  Mr.  Pilkington  were  shot  dead,  and  nine  hundred  of 
their  bravest  lay  beside  them. 

"Little  use  to  missionize  the  nigger,  he  has  no  grati- 
tude," says  the  ignorant.  The  story  of  Lubwas  Boma 
is  no  uncertain  answer  to  such  slander. 

So  much  for  the  native's  capacity  for  better  things. 
But  were  that  capacity  even  far  less  than  it  is,  were  he  a  far 
more  embrutalized  man,  were  he  lacking,  as  he  is  not,  in 
those  qualities  which  enable  him  to  advance  when  he  is 
wisely  helped  and  ruled  and  educated;  there  remains  one 
factor  in  the  problem  of  his  future,  which  is  often  forgotten 
and  yet  may  not  be  evaded.  He  is  in  Africa  to  stay.  He 
will  increase.  The  country  cannot  be  a  country  without  him. 

In  other  lands  colonized  by  the  Circassian,  the  native 
has  not  been  necessary,  absolutely  necessary,  to  the  devel- 
opment of  the  land  seized  on.  In  Australia  no  one  needs 
poor  "Jackie."  In  the  United  States  and  Canada,  the  native 


3g8  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

was  ever  a  rover,  a  mere  huntsman  or  the  most  indifferent 
of  farmers.  The  incomer  was  gladly  rid  of  him.  The  red 
man  perished  or  was  driven  back.  No  one  dreamed  of 
employing  him  to  develop  the  country  that  strong  hands 
had  wrested  from  him.  In  Africa  all  this  is  reversed. 

Africa  is  the  black  man's  country.  Nothing  has  been 
done,  it  seems  unlikely  that  anything  of  consequence  can 
be  done,  in  its  vast  tropic  regions,  without  him.  Here 
and  there  isolated  spots  may  be  found  where  the  white  man 
can  make  a  home  and  rear  his  children.  Too  often  his 
most  abiding  memorial  in  it  has  been  the  graves  of  his  dead. 
In  other  countries,  too,  settlement  and  occupation  have 
proceeded  gradually.  By  slow  degrees  the  conquered 
country  has  come  under  the  influence  of  the  conquering 
colonizer.  In  Africa's  case  it  may  be  said,  that  a  vast 
continent,  neglected  for  thousands  of  years,  has,  in  a  sud- 
den access  of  international  jealousy,  been  hurriedly  cut  up 
and  partitioned  among  the  great  nations  of  the  earth,  each  of 
them  solely  bent  on  outdoing  his  competitors,  and  grabbing 
for  himself  all  that  might  be  grasped.  The  native  has,  of 
course,  been  utterly  forgotten,  and  ignored  —  but  he  remains. 

The  national  pirates  have  laid  violent  hands  on  pos- 
sessions they  had  no  moral  or  other  claim  to,  but  their  booty 
is  valueless  to  them  without  the  aid  of  the  forgotten  and 
despised  native.  This  is  the  state  of  things  to-day,  and 
so  far  as  the  future  can  be  forecast,  this  must  ever  remain 
the  truth  of  Africa.  The  one  atonement  that  it  is  in  the 
power  of  civilization  to  make  to  the  native,  is  to  improve 
him,  lead  him  forward,  help  him  to  develop  his  magnificent 
country,  and  see  that  he  benefits  by  that  development. 

Personally,  I  am  not  at  all  doubtful  that  this  will  be 
done,  for,  apart  from  all  emotional  or  moral  considerations, 
Africa  cannot  advance  without  him,  and,  as  a  mere  matter 
of  business,  his  safeguarding  and  fair  treatment  will  there- 
fore be  assured. 


A   PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE 


399 


The  economic  waste  of  such  government  or  non-govern- 
ment as  obtains  in  the  rich  Congo  country,  to  leave  out  of 
account  its  monstrous  wickedness,  must  soon  be  evident  to 
intelligent  men. 

The  folly  of  submitting  much  of  richest  Africa  to  the 
Portuguese,  who  seem  to  have  learned  nothing  and  for- 
gotten nothing  in  three  hundred  years,  will  also  in  time  be 
apparent.  The  Congo  regions  and  those  parts  of  the  coun- 
try held  still  by  the  Portuguese,  are  in  a  worse  than  back- 
ward condition.  The  tribes  within  them  have  at  present 
no  chance,  they  are  almost  as  ignorant  and  terror-stricken 
as  they  were  hundreds  of  years  ago.  They  have  gained, 
so  far  as  I  could  learn,  nothing  by  passing  under  the  con- 
trol of  selfish  and  brutal  European  powers.  Nothing  has 
been  done  to  help  the  native  either  in  the  Congo  or  in 
Portuguese  East  Africa.  To  all  intents  and  purposes  he 
is  a  mere  slave,  the  slave  of  a  government;  that  is  to  say, 
a  slave  in  far  worse  plight  than  is  the  slave  of  a  master. 
It  is  in  the  master's  interest,  however  cruel  he  may  be, 
to  protect  his  chattel,  while  government  or  corporation 
slavery  is  only  interested  in  forcing  from  him  his  stint  of 
ivory,  rubber,  or  toil. 

The  missionary  represents  the  attempt  of  civilization 
to  make  good  to  the  East  African  a  tithe  of  its  responsibility. 
Undoubtedly  the  present  state  of  things  there  is  bad.  It 
would  be  far  worse  if  it  were  not  for  the  missionary. 

He  is,  indeed,  a  light  in  a  dark  land.  And  these  lights 
are  very  far  apart,  and  only  feebly  fed  with  the  oil  of  reason- 
able and  necessary  support.  Still  they  shine,  and  there 
is  hope  for  the  darkest  places  and  problems  in  their  shining. 

The  missionary  comes  to  Africa  profoundly  ignorant 
of  the  real  conditions  awaiting  him.  He  has  had  no  train- 
ing that  fits  him  for  the  tremendous  task  he  must  take  up. 

Mr.  S.,  one  of  the  ablest  and  most  fully  consecrated 
missionaries  I  ever  met  in  my  life,  said  to  me:  "They  send 


4oo  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

me  good  fellows,  trained  at ,  who  could  conduct  a 

Massai  prayer  meeting  admirably,  I  am  sure,  but  they  have 
no  idea  how  to  plough  a  bit  of  land,  build  a  house,  or  take 
care  of  themselves,  much  less  teach  the  ignorant  and  obsti- 
nate savage  how  to  do  these  things."  It  reminded  me  of 
what  Mackay  of  Uganda,  perhaps  the  greatest  missionary 
that  ever  laboured  there,  wrote  long  before  to  England,  when 
I  was  a  young  man.  "Send  us,"  he  said,  "not  university 
men  who  know  Latin  and  Greek,  but  healthy,  Christian 
ploughmen  and  blacksmiths  —  these  are  what  we  need 
in  Uganda." 

I  greatly  dislike  to  criticise  the  methods  of  these  self- 
sacrificing  men  and  women,  who  willingly  give  their  all 
to  save  and  uplift  the  black  man,  but  I  am  forced  to  con- 
fess, that  to  me.  the  missionary  plan  of  campaign  seems 
mistaken  in  some  important  particulars.  The  native  is 
not  capable  of  benefiting  by  what  is  offered  him ;  the  offerer 
is  not  able,  and  sometimes  not  permitted,  to  offer  anything 
else.  Three  things  I  would  insist  on: 

First:  The  native  is  only  capable  of  understanding 
the  very  simplest  of  religious  ideas.  Protestant  and  Roman 
Catholic  missionaries  have  not  simplified  the  message 
enough  for  him. 

Second:  He  needs  industrial  education.  As  it  is,  the 
effort  is  everywhere  being  made,  where  there  is  any  effort 
made  at  all,  to  give  him  a  poor  sort  of  English  school 
training. 

Third:  To  advance  at  all  he  must  be  firmly,  lovingly 
forced  to  work,  kept  at  his  job,  for  his  one  strongest  defence 
against  all  civilization  and  religion  is  the  fact  that  at  heart 
he  is  a  nomad  still. 

I  say  he  is  necessary  to  Africa;  his  well-being  spells 
Africa's  progress.  Therefore,  for  that  very  reason,  he  must 
not  be,  cannot  be,  left  to  his  own  devices,  any  more  than 
an  ignorant  and  sometimes  vicious  child  can  be  safely 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  NATIVE  401 

left  to  his.  He  must  be  trained,  controlled,  made  to  work, 
if  necessary,  for  if  this  is  not  done  he  will  surely  perish 
from  the  earth. 

His  land  cannot  remain  forever  dark  and  unknown. 
The  growing  world  needs  it;  the  multiplying  hungry  mouths 
of  the  race  must  call  on  Africa,  sooner  or  later,  to  do  its 
share  in  feeding  them.  Uncounted  milKons  can  draw 
their  subsistence  from  its  rich  soil  and  an  abundance  be 
left  over  for  the  African  cultivator. 

These  three  considerations,  then,  should  control  and 
direct  all  civil  and  missionary  enterprises  in  British  East 
Africa.  Having  stated  them,  let  me  deal  with  them  briefly 
one  by  one. 

I.  Mr.  Stanley's  expeditions  in  Africa  had,  speaking 
charitably,  little  of  the  missionary  element  about  them. 
The  natives  called  him  "  Breaker  of  stones."  His  methods 
were  often  ruthless  and  bloody  in  the  extreme.  But  when 
he  outlined  for  Christian  missions  the  course  they  should 
adopt,  in  order  to  benefit  the  Waganda,  his  summing  up  of 
the  situation  and  of  what  it  required,  was  admirable.  He 
writes:  "The  practical  Christian  man  who  can  teach  the 
people  how  to  become  Christians;  cure  their  diseases; 
construct  dwellings;  understand  agriculture;  turn  his  hand 
to  anything;  this  is  the  man  wanted.  Tied  to  no  church 
or  sect;  professing  God  and  His  Son;  living  a  blameless  life; 
inspired  by  liberal  principles;  with  charity  to  all  men  and 
a  devout  faith  in  heaven.  He  must  belong  to  no  nation 
in  particular,  but  to  the  entire  white  race."  As  a  sketch 
of  an  ideal  missionary  for  East  Africa  this  could  not,  I 
think,  be  improved  upon.  It  reveals  in  Mr.  Stanley  a 
prescience  quite  extraordinary,  and  the  dreadful  calamities 
that  for  so  long  overwhelmed  the  Uganda  mission,  were 
just  the  inevitable  results  of  the  failure  of  modern  missions 
to  act  on  the  common  sense  rules  he  so  clearly  laid  down. 

The  bloody  turmoil  that  for  years  afflicted  the  unhappy 


402  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Waganda,  was  largely  owing  to  the  introduction  into  that 
country  of  the  age-long  feud  between  Roman  Catholic 
and  Protestant.  One  Christianity  the  Waganda  and  their 
king  could  understand.  It  was  the  religion  of  the  all- 
powerful  white  man,  and  might  be  expected  to  do  for 
them  what  it  had  accomplished  for  these.  But  white  man 
attacking  white  man,  Christian  denouncing  Christian,  was 
something  astounding  and  inconceivable.  A  simple,  under- 
standable Christianity  they  were  ready  to  heed  and  accept; 
but  how  could  they,  their  chiefs,  or  their  king,  decide 
between  two  religions,  both  claiming  to  be  the  real  religion 
of  Christ,  the  advocates  of  which  were  at  each  other's 
throats.  They  naturally  rejected  both,  and  the  whole  land 
came  near  falling  into  anarchy. 

It  must  be  apparent  to  anyone  that  such  divisions  are 
a  prime  cause  of  our  failure  as  missionaries.  But  the  full 
extent  of  this  evil  of  division  can  be  evident  to  no  one  who 
has  not  seen  its  results  in  heathen  lands.  The  Christianity 
of  Western  Europe  cannot  succeed  as  a  missionary  religion 
till  it  is  truly  catholic.  If  it  is  to  be  a  true  world-religion, 
it  must  go  to  the  world  as  a  world-religion,  and  not  as  an 
"ism."  Not  as  Roman  Catholic,  Protestant,  or  Greek, 
but  as  Christian.  The  present  situation  in  the  mission 
field  the  whole  world  over  is  ridiculous,  deplorable,  and 
pathetic.  Instead  of  an  organized  army  fighting  against 
evil  and  ignorance,  regiment  supporting  regiment,  corps 
aiding  and  acting  with  corps,  all  obeying  a  plan  of  cam- 
paign, we  have  thousands  of  unrelated,  undisciplined 
squads  and  companies,  guerrillas  and  volunteers,  acknowl- 
edging no  leader,  with  no  plan  of  action,  powerless  against 
the  enemy,  and  often  bitterly  hostile  (as  in  the  case  of 
Uganda)  to  each  other. 

The  Uganda  missionaries  are  not  to  be  specially  blamed. 
They  proved  themselves  a  noble  band  of  men.  They  were 
but  the  victims  of  our  system.  The  wave  of  a  national 


A  PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE  403 

struggle  between  England  and  France  for  the  mastery  in 
Africa,  swept  them  along  to  deeds  they  could  not  avoid 
doing,  to  the  attainment  of  ends  they  could  not  have  fore- 
seen. They  held  Uganda  nobly  for  England,  but  that  is 
a  very  different  matter  from  winning  the  Waganda  for 
Christ.  Religious  politics  and  political  religion  come  near 
ruining  the  country. 

Apart  from  political  considerations,  from  which  mission- 
ary effort  in  East  Africa  may  perhaps  now  be  hoped  to  be 
free,  there  remains  the  matter  to  be  taught  to  the  natives. 
In  this  there  is,  I  am  persuaded,  a  permanent  hindrance  to 
missionary  success.  An  effort  is  put  forth  to  make  the 
native  what  he  cannot  be,  a  black  man  with  a  white  man's 
mind.  I  am  far  from  pessimistic  as  to  the  native's  capacity 
for  development,  but  he  is  too  far  behind,  his  whole  habit 
of  mind  is  too  foreign  to  that  of  the  white  man,  to  make 
it  possible  for  him  to  benefit  by  the  usual  doctrinal  teach- 
ing which  missionary  customs,  rules,  and  standards  impose. 
He  has  been  for  ages  without  any  religion  at  all.  He  cannot 
suddenly  accept,  understandingly,  those  forms  of  religious 
thought  and  belief  which  have  only  been  formulated  even 
in  his  teacher's  mind  as  the  result  of  ages  of  conflict,  elimi- 
nation and  absorption.  What  can  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity 
mean  to  him  ?  Miracles  of  a  certain  kind  he  will  readily 
accept,  his  profound  belief  in  the  witch  doctors'  power 
makes  such  acceptance  both  natural  and  of  no  value.  On 
the  other  hand,  when  such  a  miracle  as  "the  virgin  birth" 
is  insisted  on,  as  it  is  unfortunately  almost  universally 
insisted  on  by  missionary  England  and  America,  a  very 
real  difficulty  at  once  arises.  Faith,  in  its  true  sense,  he 
knows  nothing  of.  He  is  of  necessity  a  materialist,  and  to 
ask  him  to  believe  something  beyond  his  reason,  is  to  ask 
him  to  do  what  the  very  best  impulses  within  him  rebel 
against  his  doing.  Again  and  again,  in  conversation  with  the 
most  intelligent  men  of  my  sefari,  who  were  Mohammedans, 


4o4  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

they  have  confronted  me  with  this  difficulty:  "How  can 
we  believe  that  a  child  was  born  without  a  father  ?" 

The  natives  have  no  idea  of  God,  and  this  fact,  instead 
of  making  their  conversion  easy,  makes  it  far  more  difficult. 
There  is  nothing  to  build  on;  the  whole  idea  is  outside  the 
range  of  their  minds,  they  must  be  raised,  helped,  educated 
for  a  long  time  before  it  can  have  any  real  hold  on  them. 

So  with  regard  to  a  future  life,  they  have  no  wish  for  it. 
It  in  no  way  appeals  to  them.  I  have  not  found  that  the 
Mohammedan  conception  of  the  future  affects  the  Moham- 
medan native  in  the  slightest  degree.  His  lot  may  seem 
to  us  to  be  utterly  miserable,  it  does  not  seem  so  to  him. 
Theoretically,  like  other  natives  who  recognize  only  nature's 
powers,  he  should  be  a  terror-stricken  coward.  In  his 
own  judgment  he  is  neither  poor  nor  unhappy.  What 
need  has  he  of  a  supremely  good  Creator,  a  Redeemer 
or  a  heaven  to  come  ?  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  is  measur- 
ably satisfied  with  what  he  has  and  is. 

The  real  hold  that  the  missionary  has  on  him  ic  the  fact 
that  he  is  a  white  man,  a  being  of  another  and  a  high  order. 
Gladly,  proudly,  he  follows  him;  painstakingly  he  imitates 
him.  The  missionary's  hymns,  the  missionary's  Bible, 
everything  pertaining  to  his  "bwana,"  are,  for  that 
"bwana's"  sake,  dear.  He  is  proud,  indeed,  to  show  to  all 
who  will  see  it  the  evidence  of  his  devotion.  I  have  heard 
him  called  a  hypocrite  for  pulling  from  a  corner  of  his  scant 
clothing  a  testament  he  could  not  read,  as  was  too  evident 
by  the  fact  that  he  held  it  upside  down!  But  the  poor  child 
of  nature  was  only  trying  to  show  that  he  was  a  mission  boy. 

Let  me  repeat  what  I  have  said.  The  personality  of 
the  missionary  is  the  one  great  link  holding  the  native  to 
better  things  during  these  difficult  days  of  rearrangement 
and  disorder,  still  awaiting  him. 

In  this  respect  no  words  can  exaggerate  the  good  the 
Christian  missionary  has  accomplished  and  is  to-day 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  NATIVE  405 

accomplishing.  The  civil  servant  does  his  best,  and  in 
East  Africa,  as  I  have  again  and  again  said,  it  is  a  very  noble 
best.  But  the  civil  officer  changes  often.  Scarcely  has  he 
learned  to  know,  even  slightly,  the  needs  of  the  tribes  he 
governs,  when  unknown  high  powers  call  him  away  to  some 
other  post.  The  missionary  remains ;  he  learns  his  language, 
at  last  he  learns  to  think  his  thoughts.  Lieutenant-Gov- 
ernor  Jackson  once  said  to  me:  "Quite  apart  from  the  great 
good  they  do  as  interpreters  of  native  needs  and  aims, 
the  missionaries  are  absolutely  invaluable  to  the  govern- 
ment." And  he  added,  speaking  of  one  we  both  honoured: 
"He  thinks  Kikuyu." 

But  if  our  missionaries  had  brought  or  could  bring 
to-morrow,  to  these  dark  races  who  are  prepared  to  so  love 
and  follow  them,  a  very  much  less  complex,  a  quite  simple 
religion,  I  cannot  but  believe  Christianity  would  have  had 
a  success  in  East  Africa  that  it  has  certainly  failed  to  obtain. 

Frankly,  I  think  a  great  opportunity  was  thrown  away. 
I  am  afraid  I  am  right  in  saying  "was,"  for  I  am  not  sure 
that  it  can  now  be  recalled,  even  were  Christians  willing  or 
able  to  recall  it. 

Africa  is  becoming  not  Christian  but  Mohammedan, 
and  it  is  becoming  Mohammedan  in  spite  of  the  immense 
advantage  Christianity  naturally  has  over  the  latter  religion, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  the  rulers  of  the  land  are  Christian. 
Mohammedanism  wins  one  hundred,  where  Christianity 
wins  one,  because  Mohammedanism  gives  the  native  what 
he  can  understand,  what  he  wants,  while  it  leaves  him  in 
possession  of  much  that  he  is  not  willing  to  part  with; 
much  that  I  think  he  should  not  be  asked  to  part  with. 
To  make  little  of  the  influence  of  Mohammedanism  is  not 
wise.  To  deny  its  influence  on  the  native  for  good,  is  not 
just.  It  means  a  real  step  forward  for  the  East  African 
when  he  becomes  a  follower,  even  in  the  name  of  the  Prophet. 

His  new  religion  lifts  him  out  of  mere  tribalism  into  a 


406  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

family  of  free  men.  No  man  can  enslave  him,  he  is  a  mem- 
ber of  a  great  brotherhood.  Further  than  that,  in  the  vast 
majority  of  cases,  I  do  not  think  the  matter  goes,  but  this 
simple  religion  or  beginnings  of  a  religion,  is  not  without 
evident  effect  in  his  life.  He  is  at  least  as  truthful,  as  clean 
in  his  manner  of  living,  and  certainly  more  sober,  than  the 
Christianized  native. 

Of  the  doctrine  of  Mohammedanism  he  knows  nothing 
except  that  he  must  stand  by  his  brother  religionists,  and 
must  not  eat  meat  that  has  not  been  "hallalled."*  He 
remains,  of  course,  a  polygamist.  There  will  doubtless 
be  many  who  maintain  that  such  a  religion  is  no  religion  at 
all,  and  that  it  measures  no  practical  advance  whatever. 
I  can  but  say  that  this  is  not  so,  and  that  for  the  native  it 
measures  perhaps  as  great  an  advance  as  at  present  he  is 
capable  of.  Lift  him  too  high,  force  him  too  fast,  and 
reaction  certainly  ensues. 

Mohammedanism  is  born  of  the  East  and  understands 
the  East  better  than  we  of  the  West  do.  We  foolishly 
flatter  ourselves  that  we  have,  in  our  Western  Christianity, 
evolved  the  pure,  the  final,  the  universal  religion.  Some  of 
us  are  profoundly  doubtful  that  as  yet  we  have  attained 
so  great  a  goal.  At  any  rate,  we  have  not  sent  forth  our 
missionaries  empowered  to  teach  a  religion  so  simple,  so 
universal,  so  fundamental  that  it  can  meet  the  needs  of 
these  newest,  least  developed,  and  most  pathetically  needy 
children,  of  the  dark  land. 

A  brotherhood  as  simple,  as  universal  as  that  Moham- 
medanism has  offered  him,  we  might  have  offered.  He 
might  have  been  invited  to  membership  in  the  white  man's 
religious  family,  given  a  real,  even  if  the  lowest,  place  in  it. 
What  has  been  done,  what  is  being  done,  is  that  he  is  set  to 
learn,  told  to  believe,  things  that  though  they  are  simple 
enough  to  us,  are  quite  beyond  his  powers  of  understanding. 

•Throat  cut  before  animal  it  actually  dead. 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  NATIVE  407 

He  must  change  all  his  methods  of  living,  think  as  the 
white  man  thinks,  believe  what  the  white  man  believes. 
He  is  generally  ready  to  try,  but  he  soon  tires  of  the  impos- 
sible task  set  him,  and,  demoralized  by  failure,  discouraged 
to  find  that  he  cannot  retain  the  approval  of  his  masters 
and  teachers,  he  falls  back  among  his  own  people,  and  is 
distinctly  a  worse  man  for  his  relapse. 

If  we  will  not  give  Africa  a  much  simpler  religion  than 
any  of  our  missionaries  are  now  empowered  and  encouraged 
to  teach,  Africa  will  become  Mohammedan.  One  of  the 
chief  difficulties  in  the  way  of  Christian  missions  in  East 
and  Central  Africa  is  that  missionary  organizations  are 
controlled  and  directed  from  a  distance  by  committees 
composed  of  men  who,  however  excellent  and  well  inten- 
tioned,  are  actually  ignorant  of  the  people  they  set  them- 
selves to  help  and  convert. 

People  at  home  do  not  know  Africa,  do  not  understand 
the  native.  The  most  difficult  thing  in  the  world  is  to  bring 
the  facts  of  native  life  before  them.  In  illustration  of 
this  extraordinary  state  of  things,  I  take  my  own  case. 
Whatever  value  these  notes  of  mine  may  have,  lies  in  the 
fact  that  they  state  facts  for  the  truth  of  which  I  vouch,  and 
which  are  well  known  to  be  true  by  all  men  who  know  the 
country.  In  my  chapter  on  the  life  of  the  tribes  I  visited 
I  wrote  of  their  social  customs,  the  relation  of  the  sexes  — 
simply  stating  things  as  they  were.  To  ignore  them,  to 
refuse  to  recognize  them,  can  serve  no  good  end.  They 
should  be  known,  they  must  be  reckoned  with,  if  these  people 
are  to  be  helped.  But  I  was  told,  "No  library  will  take  your 
work  if  these  facts  are  stated  baldly,  as  you  state  them." 
There  in  a  nutshell  is  the  main  cause,  as  I  see  it,  of  the  weak- 
ness of  the  Christian  missionary  position  to-day.  If 
missions  would  but  take  the  public  —  the  great  interested 
public  —  that  really  wants  to  do  right,  and  longs  to  help 
the  downtrodden,  if  it  only  knew  how  to  do  it,  into  its 


4o8  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

confidence;  tell  the  truth  about  the  field  it  seeks  to  occupy, 
the  methods  it  wishes  to  pursue,  and  the  difficulties  it  is 
confronted  with ;  if  this  were  only  done,  would  not  mission- 
ary reports  soon  receive  another  greeting  than  that  now 
accorded  to  them  ?  Who  now  reads  them  ?  Who  quotes 
them  ?  Who  is  influenced  by  them  ?  A  comparatively 
small  knot  of  excellent,  middle-aged  or  elderly  philan- 
thropists. 

They  should  be  the  most  fascinating  current  literature 
of  the  age.  They  should  be  read  with  the  same  absorb- 
ing interest  as  that  with  which  we  study  the  reports  from 
a  seat  of  war,  where  husbands  and  sons  are  fighting  for  the 
fatherland.  As  it  is,  their  destination  is  too  often  the  waste- 
paper  basket! 

How  can  it  harm  the  sheltered  home-keeping  sensibilities 
of  good  people  to  know  something  of  how  the  dark  people 
they  want  to  help,  live  ?  How  can  they  really  help  them 
if  they  do  not  know  ?  As  it  is,  reports  are  doctored,  facts 
are  suppressed,  the  religious  public  is  given  what  it  is 
supposed  to  want  to  know,  and  what  it  is  supposed  not  to 
want  to  know  is  carefully  kept  from  it.  A  policy  of  cate- 
chism and  rose  water,  I  call  it.  Its  result  is  bad  enough 
to-day,  and  will  be  worse  to-morrow.  This  has  been  for 
long  the  politician's  plan,  in  reporting  on  Africa.  God 
knows,  it  has  cost  enough  in  blood  and  treasure.  Is  it  to 
be  the  Christian's  plan,  too? 

II.  The  African  above  all  things  needs  industrial  edu- 
cation. This  and  this  alone  can  fit  him  to  fill  the  role 
providence  has  destined,  that  for  ages  to  come  he  must 
surely  fill.  The  Germans,  always  pioneers  in  such  matters, 
have  grasped  this  fact,  and  have  already  laid  the  founda- 
tion for  such  education  to  be  given  to  the  native  of  German 
East  Africa.  Though  English  missions  and  French  held 
the  strategically  important  positions  in  East  Africa  long 
before  German  occupancy  was  more  than  a  nominal  affair, 


A  PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE  409 

they  have  not  yet  done  as  much.  No  words  can  exaggerate 
the  good  work  accomplished  by  the  C.  M.  S.  medical  mis- 
sions in  Uganda.  No  hospital  anywhere  in  the  European 
protectorates  controlled  by  England,  France,  Italy,  Ger- 
many, or  Portugal,  compares  with  that  established  by  the 
two  brothers,  Doctors  Cook  and  Mengo,  so  far  as  help  to  the 
native  is  concerned.  Doctors  and  nurses,  belonging  to  our 
own  African  Inland  Mission,  are  pushing  their  way  among 
quite  unreached,  unmissionized  tribes,  and  are,  wherever 
they  go,  a  light  in  a  dark  place. 

But,  putting  on  one  side  medical  missionary  work,  the 
importance  of  industrial  teaching  has  not  yet  been  recog- 
nized. To  teach  large  numbers  of  the  East  and  Central 
Africans  to  read  and  write  seems  to  me,  to-day,  to  be  of  far 
less  immediate  value  than  to  so  educate  them  that  they  shall 
take  a  greater  interest  in  the  land  they  till,  and  the  cattle 
they  tend.  I  have  spoken  of  native  capacity  for  mechan- 
ical and  industrial  work  elsewhere  and  need  not  now  enlarge 
on  it,  but  surely  these  industrial  qualities  must  be  roused  up 
and  educated  if  he  is  to  hold  his  own.  The  yoke  of  his 
kings  was  a  cruel  yoke,  but  under  it  the  Waganda  had  to 
toil.  The  coast  Arabs  drew  their  supply  of  slaves  from  the 
lands  between  the  sea  level  country  and  the  great  lakes. 
Their  discipline  was  at  times  cruel,  but  it  gave  the  East 
African  a  master,  for  whom  he  had  to  work. 

There  is  danger  to-day  of  his  becoming  a  masterless 
man,  for  no  mastership  could  be  so  hurtful  to  him  as  his  own. 
To  save  him  he  must  be  taught,  not  to  read  or  write,  such 
knowledge  usually  only  makes  him  conceited  and  worth- 
less. He  must  be  taught  to  work. 

Uganda  is  everywhere  spoken  of  as  the  garden  spot  of 
missions.  There  the  missionaries  have  immense  influency 
as  they  well  deserve  to  have.  There  is  an  important  school 
in  the  hands  of  the  C.  M.  S.  at  Mengo,  the  capital  of  Uganda. 
In  it  more  than  one  hundred  of  the  sons  of  the  leading  men 


4io  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

of  the  Waganda  and  allied  tribes  are  receiving  education 
at  the  missionaries'  hands.  These  lads,  aged  from  ten  to 
eighteen,  will  shortly  be  men  of  commanding  influence  in 
the  country.  A  fine  new  building  lately  opened  by  Mr. 
W.  Churchill,  is  the  schoolroom;  the  appearance  of  the 
boys  is  excellent;  the  atmosphere  and  discipline  of  the 
school  evidently  sound  and  good.  But  the  education  — 
is  the  three  R's. 

"You  tell  me,"  I  said,  "that  these  lads  will  have  the 
control  of  an  immense  part  of  Uganda.  Why  don't  you 
teach  them  interesting  things  about  their  own  lands  — its 
crops,  its  possibilities  ?  Teach  them  to  be  mechanics, 
carpenters,  good  agriculturists.  Their  method  of  farm- 
ing is  rudimentary."  "Oh,  Dr.  Rainsford,  we  are  fitting 
them  for  Government  appointments.  Their  lands  and 
their  cattle  do  not  interest  them  as  they  used  to  do."  I 
fully  admit  the  need  of  finding  among  the  Waganda  young 
men  fitted  to  be  clerks  and  government  officials  in  a  small 
way.  As  the  railroad  enters,  as  English  government 
machinery  becomes  more  complex,  such  a  class  of  young 
men  will  be  of  great  value.  He  will  keep  the  Goanese  and 
Hindi  officials  out  of  the  country,  a  matter  of  great  impor- 
tance. 

But  Uganda  is  to-day  and  always  will  be  a  food  pro- 
ducing country,  capable  of  feeding  untold  millions  of  people. 
It  is  only  cultivated  in  spots.  Its  rich  surface  has  only  been 
scratched.  If  its  owners  lose  interest  in  the  land,  it  is  in  their 
own  fortune,  in  their  own  future,  they  are  losing  interest. 
It  is  a  glorious  land,  not  a  white  man's  country,  to  be  sure,  but 
among  the  very  richest  of  all  the  lands  of  the  earth;  and  in 
the  world-scramble  that  is  ours  to-day,  such  a  land  can  only 
be  left  to  a  people  that  recognizes  its  value  and  is  prepared 
to  develop  it  by  patient  toil  and  intelligent  resourcefulness. 

As  I  looked  round  those  fine  schoolroom  walls,  I  recog- 
nized many  an  old  acquaintance  of  days  long  gone  by: 


A   PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE  411 

the  familiar  rolls  of  canvas  hung  down  before  me  covered 
with  the  natural-history  illustrations  of  my  youth.  The 
flowers,  fishes,  vegetables  and  animals  of  England  were  all 
there,  after  their  well-known  and  somewhat  inaccurately 
depicted  sort  of  English!  I  wanted  to  see  Uganda.  There 
was  one  concession  only  to  the  tropics,  that  I  could  see  — 
an  American  alligator  was  made  to  do  service  for  an  African 
crocodile,  a  very  different  sort  of  saurian,  indeed. 

I  criticized  these  schoolroom  posters  then  and  there, 
but  was  told  it  would  cost  too  much  to  reproduce  the  flowers, 
vegetables,  or  animals  of  the  country.  But  the  whole  thing 
saddened  me,  for  it  showed  to  my  mind  a  total  lack  of 
appreciation  of  the  real  education  that  these  people  need. 
A  slight  knowledge  of  drawing,  a  little  clever  use  of  the 
camera,  might  have  made  these  fine  schoolroom  walls 
tell  another  and  a  far  more  interesting  story  to  the  boys 
who  were  one  day  to  rule  Uganda. 

III.  Industrial  education  cannot  be  given  to  the  nomad. 
Most  true,  and  it  is  for  that  reason  and  in  his  own 
interests,  that  the  East  African  must,  therefore,  for  a  long 
time  to  come,  be  firmly  and  wisely  made  to  do  what 
he  ought  to  do. 

I  know  well  that  such  a  statement  is  at  once  greeted  by 
indignant  outcries.  The  philanthropists,  the  theorists,  the 
public  interested  in  East  Africa  but  actually  uninformed 
about  it,  will  have  none  of  it.  The  opponents  of  forced 
labour  in  any  form  and  under  any  circumstances  wax  ignor- 
antly  eloquent.  But  outcries  do  not  alter  facts.  The  man 
who  is  not  fit  to  be  his  own  master  must  be  put  under  the 
mastership  of  someone  else,  or  he  will  perish  from  the  earth. 

Some  sort  of  forced  labour  is  absolutely  necessary.  No 
savage  ever  did  (or  ever  will)  in  any  age  or  in  any  land,  work 
systematically  unless  he  was  obliged  to.  The  African  is  no 
exception  to  the  universal  rule,  and  he  must  be  made  to 
work  there  not  only  to  develop  the  country,  but  to  save 


4i2  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

himself.  Such  work  as  is  at  present  accomplished  is  prac- 
tically accomplished  only  by  forcing  the  native.*  The 
district  commissioner  applies  to  the  chief  for  so  many 
men,  to  mend  a  road,  cut  firewood  for  the  railway,  build 
an  embankment,  or  break  up  so  much  land.  The  chief 
sees  that  these  labourers  are  forthcoming.  When  such 
labour  is  honestly  paid  and  justly  treated,  very  soon  the 
native  himself  falls  into  line.  He  sings  at  his  work,  when 
the  sun  goes  down  he  (as  I  have  often  seen  him)  dances  far 
on  into  the  night,  and  will  in  numberless  instances  volunteer 
to  continue  his  contract  or  take  another  job  under  the 
white  master  he  has  learned  to  trust.  The  fact  remains, 
however,  that  had  he  not  been  forced  in  the  first  instance 
to  leave  his  lazy  life  and  his  half-tilled  shamba,  he  never 
would  have  been  found  carrying  the  burden  or  wielding 
the  hoe.  This  is  true  of  him  even  when  cash  down  is 
paid  for  labour  done.  How  much  truer  is  it  then,  when, 
for  his  own  salvation  he  must  be  made  to  work  without 
remuneration,  in  an  industrial  school  for  months  or  years, 
while  he  learns  a  trade. 

To  make  any  real  progress  in  the  matter  of  industrial 
education,  then,  the  pupil,  the  capable  but  ignorant  and 
unwilling  pupil,  must  be  held  to  his  job.  And  partly 
because  the  missionaries  have  had  no  such  authority  vested 
in  them  so  to  indenture  the  natives,  little  in  this  way  has 
been  accomplished. 

A  promising  beginning  is  made;  the  young  men  learn 
quickly,  but  just  as  real  progress  is  in  sight,  the  nomad 
nature  reasserts  itself,  and  under  some  specious  pretext 
the  scholar  disappears.  All  is  to  do  over  again,  and  if  the 


*  Forced  labour  can  be,  and  has  often  been,  a  cruel  wrong  in  his  case,  but  even  forced  labour  is 
far  better  for  him  than  encouraged  idleness.  The  native  on  the  native  reserve  will  be,  must  ever  be, 
the  idle,  backward,  unprogressive  native.  No  well-informed  student  of  East  African  conditions 
would  advocate  a  great  development  of  the  system  of  native  reserves.  It  would  mean  shutting  the 
native  in,  leaving  him  the  victim  of  his  own  evil  influences..  Not  even  resident  missionaries  could 
accomplish  for  him  under  such  circumstances  what  the  steady  education  of  work  done,  and  new 
needs  and  wants  acquired  in  contact  with  more  progressive  people,  could  accomplish. 


A   PLEA   FOR  THE  NATIVE  413 

inexhaustible  patience  of  the  teacher  is  not  quite  worn  out, 
the  modest  financial  resources  at  his  command  certainly  are. 
Forced  labour  in  Congo  land  means  the  bloodiest  sort  of 
slavery.  Under  its  regime  the  native  population  has 
decreased.  Forced  labour  in  Portuguese  East  Africa  is 
worked  on  a  system  but  little  in  advance  of  that  obtaining 
three  hundred  years  ago.  Progress  for  the  native,  there,  is 
quite  impossible.  No  account  whatever  is  taken  of  him. 
He  exists  for  the  benefit  of  the  white  colonist  only.  But 
the  declared  aim  and  policy  of  the  English  and  German 
governments  is  manifestly  different.  True,  they  are  no 
mere  philanthropists.  The  country  they  have  acquired 
must  pay  its  way,  or  ruin  awaits  both  white  and  black,  but 
theoretically  both  have  realized  that  Africa  can  only  be 
prosperous  as  the  White  and  Black  succeed,  together. 

The  Germans  seem  to  have  sat  down  and  thought  out  the 
problem  confronting  them.  They  act  on  a  plan ;  they  govern 
on  a  system.  Englishmen  are  apt  to  criticize  German  methods 
as  being  hampered  by  too  much  system,  too  much  red  tape. 
This  may  be  so,  but  if  there  is  too  much  system  in  German 
territory,  there  is  surely  too  little  across  the  border.  The 
fertile  source  of  evil  and  inefficiency  there,  has  been  the 
evident  lack  of  one  settled  policy.  Governors,  laws,  regu- 
lations, policies  —  all  change  continually.  Native  tribes 
are  moved  from  one  location  to  another.  Farmers  are 
invited  to  come  and  till  a  new  land  of  promise.  But  the 
tribes  are  uncertain  of  the  tenure  of  their  grazing  lands, 
and  the  maddened  farmer  cannot  get  a  title  to  his  farm. 

One  year  sees  one  policy  declared,  the  next  sees  this 
overthrown,  and  something  new  promised.  Is  the  country 
to  be  a  game  reserve  ?  Is  it  to  be  a  native  reserve  ?  Is  it 
to  be  an  East  Indian  reserve?  Are  the  Boers  to  have  it, 
or  is  it  reserved  for  Englishmen  ?  No  land  can  present  a 
longer  list  of  problems  to  the  statesman  or  the  missionary, 
and  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  as  yet  there  has  been  formulated 


4H  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

at  the  Colonial  Office  any  settled  policy  regarding  it,  which 
its  governors  and  executive  officers  are  ordered  to  pursue. 

Fairness,  firmness,  sympathetic  knowledge,  and  a  fixed 
policy  —  these  are  manifestly  necessary  to  its  well-being, 
to  the  prosperity  of  its  native  population,  or  the  success  of 
its  white  colonists.  And  these  as  yet  East  Africa  has  not  had. 

But  great  and  immediate  as  the  need  is  to  help  the 
native  East  African  to  acquire  habits  of  industry,  habits  by 
which  alone  he  can  climb  out  of  savagery,  by  which  alone  he 
can  be  made  co-worker  with  the  colonist,  I  should  indeed  be- 
little Christian  missions  —  what  they  have  accomplished  and 
what  they  aim  to  do  —  were  I  to  speak  of  them  as  only  busy 
in  the  endeavour  to  materially  advance  the  black  man's 
status.  He  who  "made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men 
for  to  dwell  on  all  the  face  of  the  earth/'  has  ordained  that 
though  man  may  not  live  or  advance  without  toiling,  yet 
by  toil  alone  he  cannot  grow  to  manhood's  stature.  Bread 
is  easily  come  by  in  most  parts  of  Africa,  and  by  bread  and 
bread  alone,  the  native  has,  in  his  poor,  downtrodden, 
slavery-haunted  state,  been  forced  to  live.  But  he  is  a 
man,  and  as  man  has  had  need  for,  and  right  to,  a  higher 
life,  which  cannot  be  lived  by  bread  alone.  For  the  seeds 
of  future  manhood  within  him,  for  the  signs  and  promises 
of  a  better  and  higher  life,  who  cares  to-day  ? 

Dwarfed  and  stunted  as  he  is,  few  see  promise  or  hope 
of  these  things  within  him.  The  missionary  does;  in  them 
he  believes;  for  them  he  waits.  In  their  first  faint  spring- 
ing he  seeks  and  finds  his  exceeding  great  reward. 

African  darkness  in  the  past  and  in  the  present  is  the 
darkness  of  a  continent  without  ideals,  a  continent  given 
over  to  the  vainest  of  all  vain  efforts,  the  effort  to  live  with- 
out ideals.  In  the  face  of  such  materialism,  an  abiding  pro- 
test against  it,  lives,  teaches  and  dies  the  missionary.  Some 
smile  on  him  as  a  visionary,  a  very  few  still  slander  him  as 
a  self-seeker,  but  the  men  who  see  and  know,  the  men 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE  NATIVE  415 

on  whose  hearts  the  charm  and  terror  of  Africa  have  laid  their 
spell,  even  if  sometimes  they  have  sadly  lost  faith  in  the 
creeds  of  their  childhood,  hold  him  for  what  he  is  —  the 
real  saviour  of  the  Africa  of  the  future. 

He  has  been  her  true  discoverer.  He  opened  the  dark 
places  to  the  day.  No  man  has  so  good  a  right  as  he  to  a 
voice  in  her  government.  Our  present  day  materialism 
has  small  understanding  of  the  missionary,  but  surely  his 
own  will  come  to  him.  He  is  the  idealist  of  Africa.  A 
man's  work  is,  as  it  were,  the  perishable  body  of  him;  after 
a  few  years  the  body  wears  out,  only  the  ideas  he  gave 
forth,  the  living,  detachable  seeds  of  him,  as  it  were,  remain. 
Where  would  the  world  be  to-day  but  for  ideas?  Jewish 
ideas,  Greek  ideas,  Italian  ideas,  English  ideas  ?  Who 
cares  or  knows  anything  of  the  mere  fortune-builders  of  old 
time,  or  even  of  those  who  led  hosts  to  slaughter  in  those 
ten  thousand  battles  of  long  ago  ?  Yet  in  our  so-called 
materialistic  century,  men  pour  out  treasure  or  eagerly  cross 
sea  and  land  if  only  they  may  learn  a  little  of  those  great 
ones  who  gave  ideas  to  men.  Their  memory  is  revered, 
their  words  written,  their  pictures  painted,  the  statues  they 
hewed,  the  cathedrals  or  towers  they  builded,  are  our  price- 
less possessions  to-day. 

Adventure  and  traffic  in  Africa  has  too  often  brutalized 
those  who  pursued  them.  Colonists  cannot  be  trusted  to 
safeguard  the  rights  of  those  whom,  at  least  in  part,  they 
have  come  to  dispossess.  Between  the  colonial  adventurer 
and  the  native,  stands  the  disinterested,  self-sacrificing 
missionary.  He  should,  in  the  best  interests  of  the  country 
he  knows,  have  a  far  more  influential  voice  than  he  now  has, 
in  formulating  its  laws  and  outlining  its  policy. 

If  "blood  is  the  price  of  admiralty/'  as  Kipling  says,  who 
has  better  earned  his  right  to  a  voice  in  the  council  of  the 
land  of  his  adoption  than  he  ?  Pensions  and  honour  may 
await  the  successful  soldier.  Some  recognition,  however 


416  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

inadequate,  is  assured  the  capable  civil  official.  These 
come  for  a  time,  stay  but  a  few  years,  and  then  go  home. 
The  missionary's  home  is  among  his  black  folk.  He  lives 
among  them  and  dies  among  them.  The  splendid  assur- 
ance that  upheld  the  great  missionary  Krapf  in  those  early 
desperate  days,  when  East  Africa  was  quite  unknown,  is 
still  his.  "  Though  many  missionaries  may  fall  in  the  fight, 
yet  the  survivors  will  pass  over  the  slain  in  the  trenches,  and 
take  the  great  African  fortress  for  the  Lord." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE  LAST  SEFARI 

SPORTSMEN  arriving  in  British  East  Africa  are  natu- 
rally in  a  hurry  to  leave  the  railroad  and  civiliza- 
tion behind,  and  plunge  into  the  wilder  country  as  soon 
as  possible.  Unless  the  newcomer  has  secured  very  unusu- 
ally extensive  and  reliable  information,  or  unless  he  has 
placed  himself  in  the  hands  of  a  hunter  whose  experience 
and  character  are  well  known,  this  is  a  mistaken  course. 

There  are  several  professional  hunters  hanging  round 
Nairobi  always  looking  out  for  a  job,  whose  services  are  as 
useless  as  they  are  expensive.  And  so  many  inexperienced 
sportsmen,  and  others  with  no  conscience,  have  for  one 
cause  or  another  supplied  these  gentlemen  with  testimonials 
so  wholly  out  of  keeping  with  facts  that  written  recom- 
mendations are  of  little  use.  If  you  have  time,  as  I  have 
said  more  than  once  in  these  notes,  much  the  best  way  is 
to  go  out  alone  or  with  a  friend  on  your  own  sefari,  and 
learn  the  ways  of  the  country,  its  natives,  and  its  game. 
Afterward  when  you  begin  to  know  what  you  want,  engage. 
a  professional  hunter  if  you  need  him. 

If  you  have  the  good  fortune  to  be  in  no  great  hurry, 
do  not  too  quickly  rush  away  from  Nairobi.  It  is  a  beau- 
tiful and  most  interesting  place,  and  in  no  way  can  you 
learn  so  quickly  what  you  want  to  learn,  or  gain  so  much 
information  that  will  prove  valuable,  as  you  can  by  making 
a  few  short  expeditions  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  town. 
Here  one  at  least  of  the  game  rangers  is  to  be  found.  These 
officers  know  more  about  the  location  of  game,  which,  by 
the  way,  is  constantly  changing,  than  any  one  else. 

417 


4i8  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Lieutenant-Governor  Jackson  is  always  ready  to  give 
to  strangers  the  advantage  of  his  unique  experience.  Those 
who  are  hoping  to  secure  some  uncommon  species  will 
find  in  him  an  invaluable  ally.  If  you  immediately  rush 
away  on  sefari,  then  you  must  be  content  to  take  what  you 
can  get  in  the  way  of  headmen,  tentboy,  gunbearers  and 
porters.  If  you  delay  a  little,  and  wait  to  gain  knowledge 
and  some  experience,  you  are  sure  to  come  in  contact  with 
many  who  are  both  willing  and  able  to  aid  you.  The  walks 
and  rides  round  the  town  will  introduce  you  to  some  of  the 
most  beautiful  scenery  in  Africa.  The  curving  ridge  that 
looks  over  the  lovely  blue  plain  was  often  my  early  morn- 
ing walk.  From  its  farthermost  end  I  have  seen  soon  after 
sunrise,  or  just  before  the  sunsetting,  the  snowy  truncated 
cone  of  Kilimanjaro,  175  miles  away  on  the  right;  in  front 
Donya  Sabuk  (thirty  miles)  and  Kenia  and  Kinan  Kop  on 
the  left,  all  at  the  same  time.  There  can  be  but  few  views 
in  the  world  to  compare  with  this.  Then  turning  back- 
ward and  homeward  along  the  ridge,  fragrant  hedges  of 
pomegranate  and  yellow  roses  thrust  their  boughs  over  in- 
adequate fencing,  as  they  fill  the  fresh  morning  air  with 
odour. 

Snowy  mountains,  wide  sweeping  plains,  waving  banana 
and  a  great  abundance  of  sweetest  English  flowers.  This 
is  Nairobi  ridge,  surely  the  strangest,  and  one  of  the  most 
lovely  unions  of  tropical  and  temperate  beauty  and  life. 
Stand  on  this  southern  end  of  the  ridge,  and  turn  your 
glasses  on  the  level  plain  before  you.  Here,  not  three  miles 
away,  are  the  game  herds  of  East  Africa.  Thousands 
of  little  dots,  kongoni,  zebra,  Tommy,  Grant,  and  prob- 
ably a  few  gnu  are  in  sight.  The  popping  of  rifle  shots  at 
the  range  beneath  you  affects  them  not  at  all.  Take  your 
rifle,  however,  saunter  out  on  that  level  veldt,  and  you  will 
not  find  them  so  easy  of  approach. 

Tempted  by  the  game  herds,  lions  still  at  times  come 


THE   LAST  SEFARI  419 

Up  close  to  the  town;  one  big  fellow,  while  I  was  there, 
must  have  somehow  lost  his  bearings,  for  he  walked  over 
the  race  course  and  almost  into  the  large  native  market  near 
the  quarantine  line,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and 
only  leisurely  departed  when  the  buyers  and  sellers  raised 
a  clamorous  outcry.  Any  one  near  by  with  a  rifle  then 
had  got  a  lion  on  easy  terms. 

The  forest  at  the  back  of  the  town  still  holds  a  good 
deal  of  game,  and  the  officers  of  the  King's  African  Rifles 
can  generally  get  a  buck,  even  when  they  may  not  be  able 
to  lead  the  regimental  lines  for  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon. 

Now  and  then  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town  a  man- 
eater  makes  an  appearance.  Two  Kikuyu  were  eaten  by 
one  not  very  long  ago,  and  so  far  as  could  be  learned,  a 
Goanese,  looking  for  guinea  fowl,  came  on  the  beast  in 
some  thick  scrub  and  killed  it  with  a  charge  of  duck  shot 
in  the  ribs. 

Two  mornings  before  I  left  Nairobi  a  Mr.  T.,  who  has 
a  garden  on  which  he  prides  himself,  was  awakened  before 
daylight  by  a  most  unusual  noise  in  front  of  the  house. 

On  looking  out,  he  beheld  three  buffalo  dancing  a 
war  dance  among  his  flower  beds.  Yes,  there  is  a  good 
deal  going  on  at  Nairobi. 

On  my  first  sefari,  three  years  before,  I  had  pushed 
from  Nairobi  into  the  country  between  the  Theka  and 
Tana  rivers,  a  very  easy  locality  to  reach,  and  at  that  time 
full  of  game. 

Before  packing  up  my  rifles  and  selling  my  tent  and 
camp  belongings,  I  determined  to  make  one  more  visit 
to  it,  and  in  the  most  rugged  and  hilly  part  of  it  try  for 
a  buffalo. 

I  found  an  accumulation  of  letters  awaiting  me,  eight 
months'  arrears  in  fact,  and  what  with  these  and  the  settle- 
ment of  large  sefari  matters,  I  had  no  time  to  bother  about 


420  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

my  little  expedition,  but  let  my  outfitters  give  me  any  men 
they  chose.  I  had,  of  course,  my  own  tentboy  and  gun- 
bearer.  I  mention  this,  not  because  it  is  of  any  impor- 
tance, but  because  it  illustrates  how  necessary  in  every 
case  it  is  to  look  after  the  choice  of  your  men,  if  you  expect 
to  do  any  good  work  with  them.  We  were  only  going  to 
Punda  Melia,  forty-five  miles  away,  by  the  best  road 
in  the  Protectorate.  I  had  light  loads  and  seventeen  men. 
Well,  the  sefari  made  just  ten  miles  and  then  stuck  fast. 
I  camped  by  the  roadside,  tried  to  possess  my  soul  in 
patience,  and  wrote  up  my  notes  for  two  days,  till  I  could 
send  back,  get  better  men  and  proceed  on  my  way. 

The  country  on  the  Fort  Hall  road  I  found  greatly 
changed.  When  I  had  passed  that  way  before,  the  road 
was  only  a  track,  there  were  no  bridges,  and  we  had  to 
ford  with  difficulty  several  of  the  streams.  The  considerable 
stream  of  the  Theka  then  detained  us.  Now  I  found  an 
almost  continuous  line  of  farms,  and  solidly  built  bridges 
everywhere. 

The  game  herds  had  vanished,  and  I  made  no  attempt 
to  get  meat  for  my  men  till  I  reached  Punda  Melia. 

At  P.  I  found  two  old  friends,  who  had  already  put 
more  than  four  years  of  desperately  hard  work  behind  them, 
and  in  consequence  were  beginning  to  see  their  way  to  a 
modest  measure  of  success.  Here  I  was  on  the  outer 
edge  of  the  native  shamba  country  once  more. 

From  Punda  Melia  the  land  slopes  rapidly  down  to  the 
Tana  valley  on  the  northeast.  On  this  side  rough, 
hilly  country,  broken  into  innumerable  valleys,  forms  a 
sort  of  steep  promontory,  that  thrusts  in  between  the  two 
rivers  -  -  Theka  and  Tana. 

To  the  north,  a  very  broken  district,  dry  and  rocky, 
stretches  far  away  towards  Kenia. 

To  the  northwest  lies  the  best  tilled,  and  best  watered 
land  in  the  Protectorate,  the  very  richest  of  the  Kikuyu 


THE  LAST  SEFARI  42I 

country,  a  dimpled  country  in  whose  slight  folds  and  hol- 
lows a  quite  dense  native  population  dwells.  This  is  the 
present  granary  of  the  land,  yet  you  cannot  make  out  a 
village,  you  can  scarcely  see  a  hut,  and  out  of  it  Kikuyu 
carriers,  men  and  women,  stream  Nairobiwards,  a  thou- 
sand at  a  time. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  December.  The  lesser  rains 
had  been  very  abundant  and  the  country  was  looking 
fresh  and  lovely. 

Where  there  is  broken  and  hilly  land  in  this  part  of 
East  Africa,  the  soil  is  good  in  the  hollows  and  on  the 
hillsides.  Hence  the  grass  grows  to  such  a  length  that 
hunting  is  impossible.  Hence  again,  the  need  of  choos- 
ing the  right  time  in  which  to  visit  the  right  country. 

I  have  said  before  that  in  my  judgment  the  best  time 
of  all  to  visit  East  Africa  is  in  the  rainy  season,  which 
generally  begins  with  the  first  week  in  March.  The  old 
grass  is  then  burned.  The  new  will  be  sprouting.  Game 
travels  and  can  be  tracked.  Sefaris  depart  and  can  well 
be  spared. 

It  rarely  does  much  raining  in  the  morning  except  in  the 
Naivasha  district.  If  you  are  strenuous  you  can  march 
through  it,  and  in  spite  of  it  you  will  dry  off  before  the 
afternoon.  If  you  are  not  hurried  you  can  wait  for  the 
morning  shower  to  pass  and  then  march. 

In  far  the  greater  number  of  localities  the  rain  only 
begins  in  the  afternoon,  not  before  two,  sometimes  not  till 
four.  In  that  case  you  will  do  well  to  have  your  hunting 
and  marching  all  over  and  your  camp  well  pitched;  the 
rain  will  then  incommode  you  but  little.  The  lesser  rains 
generally  come  in  November  and  December;  every  one 
anxiously  awaits  them,  for  if  they  are  abundant  that  means 
a  second  crop  for  the  farmer. 

The  hilly  country  to  east  of  Punda  Melia  had  been  well 
burned  over.  The  upper  slopes  were  a  fresh  and  vivid 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

green.  But  there  were  many  places,  down  in  the  pre- 
cipitous hollows,  where  the  searching  grass  fires  always 
seemed  to  be  beaten  back,  and  the  long  yellow  tangle 
still  made  an  impenetrable  hiding  place  for  rhino  and 
buffalo. 

Among  these  hills  I  had  made  my  first  bow  to  African 
game  in  1906,  and  here  I  now  came  for  my  last  sefari  and 
sad  good-bye. 

I  advise  any  one  wanting  a  short  trip  near  Nairobi 
to  take  his  sefari  here  rather  than  on  to  the  baked,  sticky 
Athe  plains,  where  most  go.  Here  game  is  much  more 
various.  The  stalking  ground  is  better.  There  are  far 
fewer  ticks.  And  last  but  not  least  the  scenery  is  far  finer. 

In  one  morning's  tramp  I  saw  rhone  (preserved),  water- 
buck,  fine,  very  fine  impala,  kongoni  (Cokes),  zebra, 
duiker-buck,  oraby  (Kenia  oraby,  a  distinct  species), 
stein-buck,  reed-buck,  Chanler's  reed-buck,  bush-buck, 
and  warthog.  I  also  saw  rhino,  buffalo,  and  gnu. 
Think  of  so  great  a  variety  within  fifty  miles  of  Nairobi  in 
December,  1908,  and  each  and  all  of  them  I  could,  with 
time,  have  shot. 

The  hilly  country  I  write  of  rises  several  hundred  feet 
above  the  plateau  of  Punda  Melia,  and  then  growing  more 
rocky  and  broken,  tumbles  down  to  the  wide  Tana  valley, 
whose  floor  is  more  than  two  thousand  feet  lower  than  the 
Nairobi  plain. 

It  was  from  Punda  Melia  I  had  first  gazed  enchanted  at 
the  grand  curve  of  Kenia  with  its  crown  of  purest  snow. 
I  was  glad  indeed  again  to  look  on  it  from  the  southern 
side,  and  compare  this  view  with  that  from  the  northern. 
Kenia  is  a  beautiful  mountain,  looked  at  from  anywhere. 
But  impressive  as  it  is  when  seen  from  these  hills  above  the 
Tana,  the  view  gives  but  a  poor  idea  of  the  lofty  grandeur 
of  the  peaks  that  face  the  north. 

Krapf,   the  heroic  German   missionary,   was   the  first 


THE  LAST  SEFARI  423 

white  man  to  see  Kenia,  December  3,  1849.  The  great 
explorer,  Joseph  Thompson,  whose  statue  Sir  Harry  John- 
son well  says  should  stand  at  the  gateway  of  the  land  he 
toiled  and  suffered  so  much  to  explore,  saw  Kenia  next. 
He  came  across  the  Aberdare  and  saw  it  from  the  west, 
and  had  the  same  view  that  I  had  of  the  upper  battlements 
of  the  mountain,  gleaming  forth  above  the  dense  cloud  bank 
that  blots  out  all  sign  of  the  massive  sweeping  base. 

In  the  evening,  just  before  sunset,  Kenia  is  often  so  seen. 
In  the  hot  weather  the  heavy  forest  land  round  the  moun- 
tain base  breeds  a  perpetual  fog  bank.  The  colour  of  the 
cloudy  mass  mingles  with  and  merges  in  the  plain.  None 
would  fancy  that  behind  it  a  great  Alp  lay  hidden.  The 
upper  cloud  strata  thin  out  and  part  about  five-thirty  o'clock, 
especially  if  the  evening  is  still;  suddenly  you  lift  your  eyes 
from  the  ground,  as  you  trudge  homeward,  and  the  glorious 
vision  is  vouchsafed  to  you.  Ice,  snow,  rock,  all  glorified 
by  the  setting  sun;  marvelous,  spirit-like,  divine,  cut  off, 
as  it  were,  by  immeasurable  distance,  from  all  contact  with 
the  gross  earth.  Thompson  says:  "Kenia  was  to  me  what 
the  sacred  stone  of  Mecca  is  to  the  faithful  who  have  wan- 
dered from  distant  lands,  surmounted  perils  and  hardships 
that  they  might  kiss  or  see  the  beloved  object,  and  then  if 
it  were  God's  will,  die." 

I  had  not  yet  bagged  a  buffalo.  I  had,  as  I  have  tried 
to  tell  elsewhere,  worked  hard  and  often  for  one,  but  in 
vain.  I  had  camped  on  the  borderland  of  a  forest  country 
where  they  were  most  abundant;  but  the  bad  management 
of  my  friend's  professional  hunter,  who  asserted  that  he 
knew  the  country  thoroughly,  when  he  did  not  know  it  at 
all,  had  resulted  in  our  sefari  being  tied  fast  for  ten  days, 
while  all  the  men  had  to  make  a  journey  of  more  than 
seventy  miles  to  get  food.  Such  contretemps  will  happen. 
You  will  pass  close  to  a  place  where  the  very  beasts  you 
are  most  anxious  to  secure  are  easily  found,  and  if  you  do 


424  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

not  stumble  on  them,  or  if  you  have  no  native  scouts  who 
know  the  habitat  of  the  game,  you  may  not  be  aware  of  the 
opportunities  you  have  thrown  away  till  you  are  a  hun- 
dred miles  distant. 

One  more  determined  effort  I  would  make  to  get  my 
buffalo,  and  I  so  laid  my  plans  that  if  these  green  hilly 
ridges  would  not  give  me  one,  I  would  go  farther  down 
stream  and  try  the  swampy  and  less  healthy  country  towards 
Embo. 

As  we  made  our  way  slowly  over  the  crests  of  the  hills 
and  descended  rapidly  towards  the  Tana  Valley,  the  heat 
was  oppressive;  the  hills  shut  us  in,  and  shut  off  the  cool 
Kenia  breezes  that  are  so  refreshing  in  the  evening  as  you 
sit  at  your  tent  door  and  face  the  lovely  mountain;  and 
the  men  were  fagged  and  thirsty  when  we  pitched  camp, 
beneath  a  precipitous  slope  that  rose  2,500  feet  above  our 
heads. 

My  friends  at  Punda  Melia  had  provided  me  with  a 
local  hunter,  a  Kikuyu,  whose  soubriquet  was  "Plumes/' 
a  good  man  on  lions,  and  a  fair  tracker.  He  knew  the 
country  well,  and  was  confident  we  should  at  least  find 
fresh  sign  of  buffalo  before  making  camp.  But  it  was 
not  to  be.  Buffalo  there  had  been,  but  it  was  several  weeks 
since  they  had  visited  the  ravines  we  were  crossing. 

The  country  is  so  broken  up  hereabouts,  there  are  so 
many  gorges  and  dongas  and  corners  in  it  and  buffalo  go 
to  bed  so  early  in  the  morning,  feeding  only  at  night,  hid- 
ing themselves  almost  as  soon  as  the  sun  is  up,  that  unless 
you  have  the  good  fortune  to  come  on  a  large  herd  you  may 
hunt  for  days,  and  not  get  a  shot. 

Here,  too,  the  ground  is  extraordinarily  hard.  The 
ponderous  rhino]  scarcely  leaves  a  sign,  and  were  it  not 
that  the  heavy  night  dews  lie  on  the  grass  where  cliffs 
and  trees  shade  it  for  more  than  two  hours  after  sunrise, 
success  would  be  largely  a  matter  of  mere  luck. 


THE   LAST  SEFARI  425 

As  soon  as  the  men  had  eaten  I  sent  two  or  three  parties 
out  to  look  for  sign.  By  evening  all  returned  with  unfavour- 
able reports.  They  had  seen  nothing. 

Next  morning  John  roused  me  before  five  o'clock,  and 
half  an  hour  before  full  daylight  we  were  working  our  way 
along  the  bases  of  the  hills.  There  was  plenty  of  game, 
and  a  few  fresh  rhino  signs,  but  we  tramped  for  two  hours 
and  a  half  before  we  saw  any  fresh  buffalo  spoor.' 

One  of  my  Wakamba  was  the  first  to  make  out  a  very 
faint  print  on  the  flinty  red  soil.  It  turned  upward  into  a 
mountain  gorge,  and  as  the  earth  on  a  bench  we  were 
crossing  softened  a  little,  showed  up  more  plainly.  The 
spoor  was  that  of  a  single  old  bull,  and  was  quite  fresh. 
Our  hopes  rose  accordingly. 

After  almost  two  hours'  patient  tracking  I  found  myself 
on  a  green  slope,  not  more  than  two  hundred  yards  wide, 
that  steeply  fell  away  on  my  right  hand  and  soon  rose  to  a 
precipice  on  my  left.  A  sort  of  bench,  it  was  cut  by  deep 
dongas  every  half  mile  or  so,  and  these  were  most  of  them 
dry  and  filled  up  with  dense  brush. 

Crossing  them  took  time  and  care.  Here  the  rank 
grass  of  last  season  had  somehow  escaped  the  grass  fire, 
and  stood  tough  and  high  —  impossible  stuff  to  track  in, 
almost  impossible  to  shoot  in.  Things  began  to  look 
hopeless.  The  dew  was  gone,  and  we  lost  the  trail  utterly. 
As  we  topped  a  little  ridge,  I  saw  a  rhino  strolling  along 
in  the  perfectly  aimless  way  they  have,  on  the  other  side 
of  a  deep  donga  that  opened  up  a  few  yards  beyond  us. 
I  looked  him  over,  for  the  country  owed  me  one  more. 
The  horn  was  not  very  large  but  it  was  not  badly  shaped, 
and  was  as  long  as  any  I  was  likely  to  see.  I  told  Brownie 
I  would  have  him,  as  our  chance  of  a  buffalo  seemed  now 
so  slim. 

Just  then  the  rhino  decided  to  take  a  dry  rub  down, 
as    there    were    no    water    holes    near    by,   and    tumbled 


426  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

into  a  red  hollow  among  some  thorn  trees,  battered  his 
head,  and  rubbed  his  tick-bitten  sides  against  the  rough, 
scrapy  earth. 

Three  tough  thorn  trees  stood  close  together  within  a 
few  feet  of  his  wallow,  and  I  saw  at  once  that  here  might 
be  an  admirable  chance  to  photograph  him  before  shoot- 
ing, as  the  stems  of  the  tough  thorn  supplied  me  both  with 
a  screen  and  a  defence  till  I  should  have  time  to  lay  down 
my  camera  and  take  my  rifle.  Off  we  set,  therefore,  to 
make  our  stalk,  Brownie  and  I.  The  donga  had  first  to 
be  crossed,  and  so  densely  dark  and  deep  was  it  that  I  had 
to  give  up  my  rifle,  scramble  down  without  it,  and  be 
helped  up  on  the  other  side.  Just  as  we  were  getting  close 
to  the  rhino,  he  suddenly  decided  he  would  do  something 
else,  and  out  of  his  wallow  he  scrambled  and  came  along, 
aimlessly  pushing  first  to  one  side  then  to  another  right 
across  our  front.  Just  here  there  was  no  grass  and  bad 
as  a  rhino's  sight  is,  in  such  a  place  if  we  stirred,  he  couldn't 
fail  to  see  our  dark  bodies  moving  over  the  sunbaked  yellow 
earth.  He  saved  us  all  trouble  by  ambling  along  in  one 
direction.  About  seventy  yards  away  he  must  have  smelt 
us.  There  was  but  little  wind,  but  what  there  was  blew 
from  us  to  him;  and  he  came  to  a  dead  stop,  stamping  and 
snorting  as  rhinos  do.  I  hit  him  low  down  and  well 
forward  in  the  shoulder.  He  spun  round  once  or  twice, 
and  then  made  a  straight  line  for  where  I  was  sitting, 
coming  fast.  I  didn't  fire  my  left  barrel,  as  I  wanted  to 
see  what  he  would  do,  for  plainly  he  was  mortally  wounded. 

Here,  now,  was  another  pretty  illustration  of  what  is 
so  often  described,  and  described  inaccurately,  as  a  charg- 
ing rhino. 

Had  I  kept  on  firing,  as  is  usually  the  custom,  any 
one  looking  on  would  have  said  that  that  rhino  was  bent 
on  getting  his  enemy,  and  that  his  charge  was  only  stopped 
or  turned  aside  by  repeated  rifle  fire.  Nothing  [of  the  sort 


THE  LAST  SEFARI  427 

would  have  been  true.  The  poor  beast  did  not  even  see 
where  he  was  going,  and  rushed  aimlessly  forward  in  his 
death  struggle.  He  came  very  fast  to  within  about  twenty 
yards  of  the  knoll  where  I  sat.  Whether  he  saw  me  then 
or  no,  I  cannot  say;  anyway,  he  turned  a  little  to  one  side, 
as  scores  of  other  rhino  that  I  stalked  close  up  to  have 
done,  and  passing  quite  near,  collapsed,  squeaking  loudly, 
on  the  very  edge  of  the  donga  I  had  just  scrambled  through. 

Now  in  all  this  there  is  nothing  in  the  least  unusual 
and  I  have  only  entered  into  these  details  on  account  of 
what  follows,  for  here  begins  the  really  interesting  part  of 
my  story. 

As  I  turned  back  to  look  at  my  rhino  and  measure  him, 
I  saw  my  Wakamba  tracker,  who  had  that  morning  proved 
himself  an  unusually  good  man  at  his  work,  standing  but 
a  few  yards  away  from  me,  on  the  other  side  of  the  donga 
I  had  crossed,  and  making  silent,  frantic  signs  for  me  to 
come  to  him.  After  the  Wakamba  method,  his  arms  were 
stretched  forward  and  downward  while  he  opened  and 
closed  rapidly  his  hands. 

Brownie  and  I  at  once  saw  something  serious  was  up, 
though  what  it  was  neither  of  us  could  imagine.  We 
ran  down  the  donga's  edge  to  a  place  where  we  could  cross, 
as  the  sides  sloped  and  the  passage  was  easy,  and  came  up 
alongside  Gallinero,  the  Wakamba.  His  eyes  were  pop- 
ping out  of  his  head  as  he  pointed  into  the  black  depths  of 
the  donga,  on  whose  very  edge  we  now  stood,  and  whis- 
pered M'Bogo  (buffalo).  It  seemed  absurdly  impos- 
sible. Here  the  narrow  gulf  was  quite  thirty  feet  deep, 
and  not  only  densely  packed  with  tangle  but  quite  rilled  up 
and  overshadowed  by  thickly  growing  thorn  trees  and  trail- 
ing plants  that  roofed  it  over,  shutting  out  all  light.  It 
didn't  seem  possible  that  a  buffalo  should  be  down  there. 
Brownie  and  I  had  lowered  ourselves  down  into  it,  a  few 
yards  from  this  very  spot.  I  had  shot  off  my  heavy  rifle 


428  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

a  few  yards  beyond  it.  The  rhino  had  dashed  squeak- 
ing along  its  very  edge  and  had  noisily  died  there.  How 
was  it  possible  that  a  bull  under  such  circumstances  could 
have  lain  all  the  time  hidden,  and  make  no  sign  ? 

I  thought  the  man  was  certainly  mistaken,  and  owing 
to  the  complete  blackness  of  the  place,  had  taken  a  rock 
for  a  buffalo  bull. 

Brownie  thought  so,  too,  for  I  saw  him  smile  incredu- 
lously as  he  noiselessly  drew  alongside  the  Wakamba,  and 
looked  close  into  the  chasm  where  the  other  was  pointing. 
Presently  he  too  saw  the  hiding  beast  and  tried  to  make  me 
see  it.  I  looked  and  looked,  but  all  was  dark.  Then  as 
my  eyes  grew  accustomed  to  the  gloom,  I  did  see  a  big 
shadow  of  an  animal  standing  against  a  rock  right  under 
my  feet,  but  which  was  head  and  which  was  rump  I  could 
not  see. 

I  never  fire  a  first  shot  at  any  dangerous  beast  till  I 
know  where  I  am  shooting.  It  is  a  good  rule  to  remem- 
ber and  has  saved  both  my  men  and  me  trouble  many  a 
time,  and  I  observed  it  now,  though  the  temptation  to 
break  it  on  this  my  last  chance  at  a  buffalo  was,  I  confess, 
very  strong.  As  I  waited,  the  shadow  vanished  without 
a  sound,  and  presently,  higher  up  the  donga,  I  heard  the 
heavy  body  crashing  through  the  scrub.  Through  the 
tremendously  high  and  matted  grass,  I  made  the  best  run- 
ning I  could,  and  in  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  reached 
a  place  where  the  donga  widened  and  shallowed,  as  its 
course  ascended  sharply  to  the  mountain  above  us.  I 
was  just  in  time  to  see  above  the  long  grass  the  heavy  points 
of  his  horns  and  the  line  of  his  black  back,  no  more,  as  he 
reached  the  level  I  stood  on.  He  was  going  fast,  his  butt 
almost  towards  me.  In  another  few  yards  the  grass  tangle 
would  completely  hide  him.  I  was  puffing  from  my  run, 
my  eyes  all  dimmed  by  sweat-covered  glasses,  but  I 
pulled  myself  together,  for  well  I  knew  it  was  now  or 


THE   LAST  SEFARI  42(> 

never,    and    if    I    did    not    cripple    him,  that    supremely 
cunning  old  bull  was  lost  to  me. 

I  tried  very  hard  for  a  raking  shot,  that  should  avoid 
his  fleshy  rump  where  an  expanding  bullet  could  not  kill 
him,  but  should  take  him  high  up  in  the  ribs  and  range 
forward.  As  I  fired  I  felt  I  was  at  least  near  the  mark; 
and  sure  enough,  with  a  fierce,  loud  whistling  snort,  he 
spun  right  around  to  the  shot,  facing  me.  Now  he  was 
head  on,  and  I  had  no  mark  to  shoot  at,  for  nothing  was 
visible  above  the  tangle  but  the  heavy  black  impenetrable 
bosses  of  horn.  He  stood  stamping  and  snorting  for  a 
moment,  made  but  a  half-hearted  attempt  to  charge,  and 
swung  back  into  the  dense  bush  fringing  the  edge  of  the 
donga.  As  he  did  so,  I  shot  through  the  grass  where  I 
fancied  his  shoulder  should  be.  We  now  had  to  go  slowly 
and  carefully,  for  our  bull  was  an  old  solitary  one,  about  the 
most  dangerous  beast,  when  wounded,  that  there  is  in 
Africa  or  any  other  land.  I  crept  forward  a  foot  at  a  time, 
parting  the  long  grass  in  front  of  me  with  my  rifle  barrel, 
and  tried  to  keep  Brownie  from  pushing  himself  ahead  of 
me,  as  he  ever  was  inclined  to  do  when  he  knew  danger 
lay  in  the  next  bit  of  grass.  It  was  impossible  to  see  any 
sign  of  the  wounded  bull;  but  plentiful  blood  spattered 
the  cover.  The  tangle  was  eight  or  ten  feet  high  hereabout, 
but  the  precipitous  donga  was  behind,  and  he  could  never 
get  out  of  it  again  should  he  retreat  into  it,  if,  as  I  believed, 
he  was  severely  wounded.  This  was  no  time  to  hurry, 
for  danger  lay  in  the  terribly  thick  tangled  grass. 

Foot  by  foot,  for  fully  forty  or  fifty  yards,  we  followed  on. 
At  last  I  made  him  out  right  in  front  of  me  only  a  few  feet 
away,  his  head  held  low  and  looking  very  ugly  indeed. 
The  moment  I  made  him  out  I  shot  and  he  sank  down  in 
his  tracks,  stone  dead.  We  all  breathed  more  freely,  for 
it  had  been  anxious  work.  Then  we  shook  hands  all  round, 
and  I  bakshished  the  men,  not  forgetting  the  fine  bit 


430  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

of  tracking  that  Gallinero  had  done.  He  had  kept  on 
looking  for  the  spoor,  when  we  went  after  the  rhino,  and 
had  picked  it  up  on  the  very  border  of  the  black  and  seem- 
ingly impossible  place  where  that  cunning  old  warrior 
had  cached  himself  so  effectually. 

He  proved  to  be  a  very  old  solitary  bull,  with  unusually 
massive  bosses  to  his  horns.  Their  spread  was  not  unusual. 
Still,  if  not  quite  what  the  men  called  him,  Koubwa  Sana 
(very  big  one),  he  was  a  fine  trophy  and  in  very  good  con- 
dition. His  horns  spread  just  40  inches.  Along  the  curves, 
which  were  fine  and  regular,  he  measured  6iJ,  and  the 
bosses  were  14!,  and  very  massive.  It  was  a  most  unusual 
piece  of  luck  seeing  him  at  all,  and  that  I  owed  to  the  very 
fine  tracking  of  my  Wakamba.  Who  could  have  believed 
that  with  all  that  racket  round  him  he  would  still  lie  so 
closely,  so  cunningly  hidden  ?  Had  he  charged  me  when 
I  was  struggling  through  the  donga,  right  under  his  nose, 
I  should  have  been  in  a  bad  plight.  I  could  not  even  have 
fired  off  my  rifle.  I  had  had  extraordinary  bad  luck  with 
buffalo  up  to  this^very  last  little  hunt,  but  on  it,  equally 
good  fortune  attended  me.  I  had  at  least  "kept  my  fly 
in  the  water."  Such,  sometimes,  is  hunting  in  British 
East  Africa. 

Little  more  remains  to  be  said.  I  had  longed,  from 
the  time  when  I  was  little  boy,  to  visit  Africa.  Two 
lands  above  all  others  I  hoped  to  see,  two  things  to  do. 
I  wanted  to  ride  buffalo  on  our  own  wide  beautiful  prairies, 
and  I  hoped  against  hope  some  day  to  see  for  myself  the 
splendid  wild  life  of  Africa  at  her  best.  There  are  not 
many  men  alive  who  have  ridden  among  the  countless 
herds  of  our  perished  bison  side  by  side  with  the  Red 
Indian  in  the  days  of  his  glory.  I  suppose  there  is  no 
man  who  has  seen  what  I  saw  in  1868  and  who  has  also 
seen  what  is  most  savage  and  most  splendid  in  the  African 


THE  LAST  SEFARI  43i 

wilderness.  There  is  something  in  what  John  Burroughs 
says,  who,  when  he  does  allow  himself  a  rare  excursion  into 
poetry,  writes  well. 

"The  moon  comes  nightly  to  the  sky, 
The  tidal  wave  unto  the  sea  ; 
Nor  time  nor  space  nor  deep  nor  high 
Can  keep  my  own  away  from  me."  * 

This  old  world  is  not  a  bad,  but  a  good  and  a  beautiful 
world;  and  a  man  is  better,  or  should  be,  for  seeing  it. 
And  even  its  neglected  and  forgotten  sons,  called  some- 
times too  contemptuously,  heathen,  men  with  no  history, 
no  great  tradition  to  help  them  along  the  stony  paths 
of  life,  are  still  full  worthy  to  be  held  as  brothers  by 
the  best  of  us. 

"  He  hath  made  of  one  blood  all  men  to  dwell  on  the 
face  of  the  earth."  So  the  old  book  has  it,  and  the  man 
who  moves  among  his  kind  with  eyes  open  and  heart  in 
his  bosom,  knows  it  to  be  true. 

Tried  by  our  standards  they  are  ignorant,  and  cer- 
tainly they  have  no  hope  of  any  other  life  beyond  the  grave. 
But  they  have  a  good  working  morality  of  their  own,  and 
I  have  well  proved  many  of  them  to  be  brave,  honest, 
faithful,  courteous,  heathen  gentlemen.  They  gave  me, 
a  stranger,  of  their  best,  and  what  more  can  any  of  us  give 
to  his  friend.  Ah!  How  few  give  that? 

To  know  Africa  once,  they  say,  is  never  to  forget  her; 
and  I  surely  take  away  memories  with  me,  that  have  become 
part  of  myself.  Waking  and  sleeping,  they  will  revisit  me 
again  and  again. 

The  delight  of  early  morning  riding,  through  the  new 
and  wonderful  world  of  the  dew.  The  freshness  and  peace 
everywhere,  when  at  last  the  long  watch  and  ward  of  the 
night  were  over,  and  even  the  most  timid  beasts  cast  fear 

*I  am  obliged  to  make  any  quotations  I  indulge  in  from  memory,  and  mine  is  very  poor. 


432  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

away.  The  purple  forest  ridges  sending  up  their  morning 
oblation  of  silvery  cloud  incense  to  their  lord  the  sun. 

The  measured  tramp  and  tap,  tap  of  the  porters*  sticks, 
as  the  Wanyamwazi  column  marches  steadily  into  camp. 

The  tender  wonder  of  evening  light  —  you  see  it  in 
Africa  as  nowhere  else  —  flushing  not  the  sky  only,  but 
rolling  in  a  flood  of  gold  and  crimson  over  the  wide- 
flung  veldt. 

The  delicious  cool  of  the  evening,  when  all  work  is 
over  and  the  fragrant  smoke  of  thorn  wood  fires  rises 
into  the  still  air. 

The  long  talks  and  gradually  won  confidences,  as  wild 
men  told  quietly  of  deeds  done  and  wrongs  suffered,  spoke, 
at  first  hesitatingly,  of  strange  rites  observed  by  them, 
they  knew  not  why.  They  did  as  their  fathers  had  done 
before  them. 

I  shall  see  the  haunting  beauty  of  Kenia's  silvery  crown, 
as  far  up  in  heaven  it  rose  before  me  in  the  twilight,  serene, 
virginal,  unearthly.  And  again  long  black  lines  of  mighty 
elephants  will  come  slowly  down  from  the  purple  slopes 
of  Elgon,  and  stream  across  the  wide  yellow  plain. 

My  first  lion  comes  forth  at  last  from  the  shelter  of  the 
thorn  bushes.  The  morning  sun  shining  full  upon  him, 
as  he  turns  his  massive  head  toward  me. 

It  is  hard  to  bid  Africa  good-bye.  But  harder  far  to 
look  in  the  dark  faces  of  the  men  I  have  learned  to  trust  — 
my  companions  and  friends  —  for  the  last  time.  These 
true  friends  and  companions  of  more  than  a  year's  wan- 
dering! How  often  I  shall  see  them  rise  before  me,  as 
again  we  trudge  along  in  the  white  glare  of  the  noonday, 
or  as  their  faces  are  lit  up  by  the  leaping  flame  of  the  camp 
fire,  on  glorious  African  nights! 

There  is  little  Peter,  the  cook,  merry  as  a  grig,  tramp- 
ing with  his  two  kettles,  one  in  each  hand,  all  day,  cooking 
all  the  evening,  and  dancing  vigorously  in  every  dance 


THE   LAST   SEFARI  433 

going  on  with  Wanyamwazi,  Massai,  N'dorobo,  Karamojo, 
till  late  into  the  night. 

Then,  leading  the  column,  steadily  stalks  Juma,  the 
Wanyamwazi  head  porter,  who,  though  he  carried  ninety- 
six  pounds,  told  me  on  the  last  day  of  the  sefari  I  had  never 
given  him  a  heavy  enough  load. 

Along  comes  David  Rebman,  following  the  last  lazy 
or  tired  porter  into  camp.  The  best  headman  in  East 
Africa  when  he  keeps  away  from  "pomba,"  which  (it  is  but 
fair  to  say)  he  usually  does.  Brave,  competent  and  loved 
by  his  men  David,  who  has  tramped  up  and  down  all  East 
Africa  since  the  'eighties,  a  very  Ulysses  in  his  many  wan- 
derings, though  unlike  Homer's  boastful  hero,  modest 
and  ever  faithful  to  his  black  Penelope! 

David  who  bore  his  part  bravely  in  the  desperate  fight 
at  Lubwas  when  first  in  the  open,  at  but  a  few  yards'  dis- 
tance, brave  men  shot  each  other  down  and  then  in  grass 
and  cover,  desperately  engaged  in  a  life  and  death  struggle 
for  hours  on  the  issue  of  which  it  is  no  exaggeration  to  say 
hung  the  fate  of  Uganda.  Poor,  forgotten,  unrewarded, 
unthanked  David,  who  like  many  another  who  served 
England  well  in  her  hour  of  extreme  need,  has  not  even  a 
bit  of  riband  or  medal  to  show  for  it. 

David,  an  intrepid  leader  of  men,  a  devout  communi- 
cant in  the  Anglican  church,  and  at  the  same  time  a  pro- 
found believer  in,  and  sufferer  from,  Mohammedan  dowa* 
(medicine  of  witchcraft).* 

Poor  David,  already  past  his  prime,  and  like  all  his 
kith  and  kin,  with  not  one  penny  saved. 

I  shall  see  oftener  than  any  of  the  rest,  and  closer  than 
the  others,  my  brave  Wakamba  "Brownie"  and  my  little 
faithful  John,  the  two  friends  who  always  looked  after  my 
well-being  with  an  untiring,  unselfish  care  in  the  field  and 
in  the  camp.  I  had  from  them  always  a  faithful  service 

*  I  tell  in  another  place  my  experience  with  David  R.  and  the  witch  doctors. 


434  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

which  may  have  been  my  due.  But  the  friendship  they  gave 
with  it,  was  a  thing  beyond  purchase. 

To  have  known  two  such  men,  one  a  heathen,  the  other 
a  Christian,  both  natives  of  East  Africa,  would  make  it 
impossible  for  me  to  be  pessimistic  as  to  the  natives'  future. 

The  shore  recedes.  I  shall  see  those  kindly  dark  faces 
no  more.  Some  have  a  Christian  hope;  to  more  of  them 
that  hope  means  nothing  at  all.  But  surely  if  an  Almighty 
Fatherhood  looks  down  on  all  the  children  of  men,  black 
and  white,  then  those  who  have  striven  here,  with  most 
unequal  chances  accorded  them,  to  do  what  their  hands 
found  to  do,  following  such  light  as  was  given  them,  shall 
have  some  not  unworthy  place  and  task  assigned  in  "the 
company  of  just  men  being  made  perfect." 

"For,  like  a  child,  sent  with  a  flickering  light, 
To  find  his  way  across  a  gusty  night, 
Man  walks  the  world. 
Again  and  yet  again 
The  lamp  may  be 
By  fits  of  passion  slain, 
But  shall  not  He 
Who  sent  him  from  the  door, 
Relight  that  lamp  once  more 
And  yet  once  more  ? " 


APPENDIX  I 

NOTES  ON  PERSONAL  OUTFIT 

THOSE  who  visit  the  country  usually  encumber  them- 
selves with  much  unnecessary  and  expensive  outfit. 
I  will  now  put  down  certain  things  essential  to  health  and 
comfort,  and  others  advisable  but  not  essential. 

First  as  to  clothes.  Warm  Jaeger  underclothes  are 
necessary;  they  can  indeed  scarcely  be  too  warm.  These 
must  come  from  home  and  should  be  many  sizes  too  large, 
as  most  tentboys  who  always  do  your  washing,  shrink  them 
in  the  process.  During  long  sefaris,  ticks  and  small  gray 
invisible  fleas  will,  spite  of  all  you  can  do,  make  their  home 
in  these  garments.  Ordinary  washing,  these  pests  seem 
to  enjoy.  Have  your  underclothes  boiled  from  time  to 
time,  putting  a  little  ammonia  in  the  water.  Avoid  tick 
country,  after  and  during  the  rains.  Have  your  boy  pick 
you  off  immediately  you  come  in  from  march  or  hunting. 
Wear  tight  puttees  and  a  tight  belt.  Use  ammonia  in  a  very 
hot  bath.  Tick  bites  neglected  cause  trouble  to  some  people. 

Never  go  round  your  tent,  much  less  outside  it,  in  bare 
feet.  Always  wear  slippers,  or  better,  boots.  If  you  feel 
irritation  in  your  feet,  have  your  boy  at  once  examine  them. 
A  neglected  jigger  may  spoil  your  trip.  Jiggers  are  more 
common  south  of  Nairobi,  and  round  Nakuru  and  Nai- 
vasha,  than  in  less  frequented  places. 

Protect  your  feet  by  the  thickest  stockings  you  can  buy. 
Better  have  some  one  knit  half  a  dozen  pair  of  long,  heavy 
woollen  stockings.  They  will  outlast  a  year's  marching, 
keeping  your  feet  warm  when  they  are  wet,  and  cool  and 
unblistered  when  the  marching  is  over  broken  rock,  and 

435 


436  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

lava  stone.  Many  suffer  from  sore  feet,  and  sores  once 
established  are  often  slow  to  heal  in  Africa.  They  are, 
moreover,  generally  caused  by  wearing  thin  socks. 

Get  your  boots  in  England  or  the  United  States,  and 
get  the  very  best.  Three  pair  for  a  year's  sefari.  Let 
them  lace  well  up,  have  broad  soles,  not  too  heavy,  nails 
screwed  in,  and  carry  extra  nails.  Bring  one  light  pair  of 
mosquito  boots  to  draw  easily  on  your  feet  in  the  evening, 
if  you  are  in  mosquito  country.  Puttees  are  generally 
better  than  leggings;  they  keep  out  crawling  things. 

Unless  you  want  to  waste  money  do  not  buy  your 
shooting  clothes  till  you  reach  Nairobi.  There  you  can 
get  an  admirable  choice  of  khaki  stuffs  and  have  them  very 
well  made  for  about  a  third  of  what  you  must  pay  your 
London  tailor,  one  fifth  of  what  your  New  York  man  will 
demand.  Three  good  suits  are  sufficient  for  a  year's  work. 
They  will  not  weigh  three  pounds  a  suit,  and  will  cost  about 
one  pound  each. 

Study  the  question  of  pockets.  Have  plenty  and  have 
them  large.  Each  little  contraption  that  you  must  carry 
with  you  daily  should  have  its  own  pocket.  Thus  you 
can  always  find  it  quickly  and,  always  keeping  it  there, 
you  will  not  leave  camp  without  it. 

Have  four  wide,  deep  pockets  in  your  khaki  hunting 
jacket,  good  flaps  buttoning  over  them,  to  keep  out  rain. 

The  best  place  by  far  to  carry  your  field  glasses,  is  in 
the  left  breast  pocket  of  this  jacket;  the  narrow  leather 
strap  of  the  glass  passed  round  your  neck.  They  can  then 
be  used  instantaneously,  which  is  most  important.  Car- 
ried in  a  leather  case  slung  round  the  shoulder,  they  are 
practically  useless  for  quick  work,  and  in  stalking  the  case 
is  very  much  in  the  way.  The  right  hand  lower  pocket 
of  the  shooting  jacket  is  the  best  place  for  handy  cart- 
ridges. The  leather  holders,  London  gun  makers  insist 
on  pressing  on  you  and  charging  you  very  highly  for,  are 


APPENDICES  437 

useless  things.  Unless  your  gun  boy  constantly  takes 
out  the  cartridges  in  them,  the  dampness  of  your  body 
produces  verdigris  on  the  cases,  and  they  stick.  If  the 
leather  cover  over  them  is  not  buttoned,  every  drop  of 
rain  falls  full  on  the  one  exposed  part  of  the  cartridge,  the 
butt,  and  dampness  once  in  there,  a  misfire  is  certain. 
You  cannot  afford  misfires  in  Africa.  In  thirteen  months 
constant  shooting  /  had  just  one.  Then  I  never  carry  my 
cartridges  on  a  leather  belt,  and  if  the  rain  has  got  into 
my  pocket,  I  promptly  throw  away  the  cartridges  that  had 
been  in  it.  I  think  the  right  pocket  of  the  jacket,  and  if 
you  want  to  carry  two  sorts  of  cartridges,  as  sometimes  you 
will,  the  right  trousers  pocket,  are  the  best  places  in  which 
to  stow  them.  A  big  cotton  handkerchief  can  be  thrust 
into  the  left  breast  pocket  over  the  glasses.  There  will 
then  be  little  chance  of  their  becoming  thoroughly  wetted. 
Save  your  Zeiss  glasses  from  wet.  Once  the  dampness  gets 
in  they  must  be  cleaned  or  they  may  take  weeks  to  dry  off. 
Always  take  an  extra  pair;  you  can  get  your  money  back 
for  them.  Tobacco,  pipe,  matches,  notebook,  will  fill  the 
other  two  jacket  pockets.  Compass,  measuring  tape, 
pocket  knife,  and  a  bit  of  string,  always  useful,  will  fill 
your  capacious  trousers  pockets.  If  you  are  obliged,  as  I  am, 
to  wear  glasses,  then  have  an  extra  big  pocket  made  down 
the  front  of  your  left  leg.  There  carry  your  cases,  and  an 
extra  pair  of  spectacles.  It  is  the  safest  side.  Wear  a 
strong  leather  belt,  with  a  short,  light,  tested,  hunting 
knife  on  it:  wide  in  the  blade;  thin  in  the  back. 

Always  carry  a  whistle,  and  teach  your  men  to  come 
immediately  to  its  call.  Never  use  it  unless  you  want 
instant  obedience.  Punish  severely  any  and  every  one  in 
the  sefari,  from  the  headman  down,  if  on  giving  the  sig- 
nal you  employ,  you  are  not  immediately  obeyed.  Firm- 
ness in  such  trifles  means  kindness  in  the  end  to  the  sefari, 
and  it  may  be  safety,  too.  Never  forget  that  on  sefari  you 


438  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

have  very  great  responsibility.     You  are  Leader,  Master, 
Magistrate,  Doctor,  Executioner,  Guardian  and  Friend. 

I  have  a  whistle  pocket  in  all  my  jackets,  high  up  on 
the  left  side. 

Now,  one  thing  more.  Fill  your  pockets  over  night. 
Always  fill  them,  and  keep  them  filled.  You  cannot  rush 
off  without  your  clothes,  you  can  rush  off  leaving  many 
necessary  things  behind  you.  There  is  nothing  more 
annoying  than  to  have  to  wait  on  a  man  in  the  early  raw 
morning,  while  he  rushes  round  in  the  mirk  looking  for  the 
essentials  which  should  have  been  carefully  stowed  in  his 
pockets  the  night  before.  It  is  a  bad  way  to  begin  the  day. 

It  as  is  well  to  have  your  trousers  faced  with  soft  leather. 

Bring  one  coat  from  England,  a  good  short  Berberry 
cape.  It  will  protect  your  shoulders  from  heavy  rain. 
Long  skirts  to  the  coat  are  heavy  and  useless,  you  cannot 
walk  in  them;  and  in  Africa  it  is  useless  to  try  to  keep 
your  legs  dry.  Ten  minutes  after  you  leave  your  tent  door, 
in  the  early  morning,  the  dewy  grass  will  have  soaked  your 
lower  half  and  filled  your  boots  with  water. 

I  have  found  a  stout  regulation  sun  helmet,  khaki 
coloured,  the  best  head-gear.  Bring  a  couple  of  shooting 
caps  for  evening  wear,  and  a  double  terai  hat,  in  case  you 
lose  or  smash  your  helmet. 

Flannel  shirts  I  found  too  hot.  Jaeger  underwear  and 
a  khaki  coat,  thickly  quilted  down  the  spine,  I  found  com- 
fortable to  march  in  in  all  weathers.  I  always  carried 
a  warm  knitted  waistcoat  wrapped  up  in  my  Berberry 
cape,  strapped  across  the  front  of  my  saddle. 

If  I  had  no  mule  my  gunbearer  carried  both  these  indis- 
pensables  in  a  small  leather  wrap  slung  over  his  shoulder. 
The  waistcoat  I  found  most  necessary  when  I  had  to  stop 
and  wait  some  time  in  the  shade,  when  a  long  stalk  was 
finished,  or  while  I  waited  for  my  lagging  porters. 
Drenched  with  perspiration,  a  tired  man  flings  himself 


APPENDICES  439- 

under  a  grateful  shade  tree,  to  rise  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
chilled  right  through.  It  is  such  small  carelessnesses  as 
these,  that  bring  trouble  in  Africa.  I  forgot  one  thing, 
never  leave  camp  without  matches,  in  a  waterproof  box. 

If  you  ride,  stow  in  your  saddle  bag  a  few  necessary 
things,  and  never  take  these  out  without  at  once  renewing 
them.  Some  biscuits  or  bit  of  chocolate,  a  hank  of  strong 
twine,  and,  wrapped  carefully  in  a  thick  cotton  hand- 
kerchief, a  syringe,  small  bottle  of  permanganate  crystals, 
roll  of  strong  bandage  and  a  bit  of  lint.  Let  your  syce 
always  carry  your  water  bottle  kept  clean,  inside  and  out, 
and  ever  filled  with  water  that  has  been  boiled,  and  kept 
boiling  five  minutes.  Punish  promptly  any  carelessness 
resulting  in  a  half-full  bottle,  or  water  not  boiled.  Stand 
over  the  fire,  show  cook,  cook  boys,  and  your  tentboy, 
what  you  call  boiling  water.  Promise  them  a  reward  if 
this  is  always  given  you,  and  let  them  understand  that 
unboiled  water  means  "  koboko."  This  may  sound  brutal, 
but  it  is  not.  Buy  two  water  bottles  in  England,  strong 
aluminum  are  best,  covered  with  felt.  Don't  be  per- 
suaded to  invest  in  any  fancy  article. 

Saddlery.  Bring  a  good  second-hand  saddle  from 
England.  Mounted  infantry  pattern  is  the  best,  straps 
in  front,  saddle  bags  behind,  good  double  bridle  and  strong 
headstall.  Girths  you  will  find  at  Nairobi.  English  girths 
are  apt  to  scald  and  rub  your  animals.  A  leather  girth 
with  two  buckles  at  each  end,  folded  double,  linseed  oil 
now  and  then  poured  into  the  fold  of  the  leather  to  keep  it 
soft,  cuts  no  beast,  never  wears  out,  and  saves  much  trouble. 
Attention  to  little  things  such  as  these  saves  much  bother 
in  the  long  run.  The  man  who  will  rush  off  on  sefari, 
a  day  or  two  after  his  arrival  in  the  country,  cannot  pos- 
sibly attend  to  things  himself,  and  will  find  out  when  too 
late  that  no  outfitter  in  the  world  can  be  expected  to  look 
after  them  for  him. 


440  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Have  a  night  blanket  fitted  to  your  mules  or  ponies. 
Green  waterproof  canvas  on  the  outside,  a  warm  blanket 
on  the  in;  with  one  of  these  coverings  carefully  put  on, 
your  mount  will  not  suffer,  even  in  heavy  rain,  and  you 
will  be  saved  the  trouble  of  carrying  a  special  tent  for  them. 
Horses,  and  more  especially  mules,  have  a  maddening  way 
of  getting  outside  a  tent,  when  they  should  be  inside. 

The  first  zebra  or  kongoni  you  shoot,  see  that  your  men 
make  a  good  rawhide  rope  for  your  mule  with  it.  If 
you  do  not  insist  on  this,  skin  after  skin  will  disappear, 
and  your  mount  will  never  have  a  secure  picket  rope. 
Ordinary  ropes  are  heavy  to  carry,  and  soon  wear  out. 
When  you  are  in  country  you  are  not  certain  of,  never  let 
your  syce  lead  the  pony  or  mule  down  to  the  water.  He 
has  nothing  else  to  do  in  camp  but  look  after  his  animals, 
see  that  he  brings  up  water  to  the  mule.  Many  a  valuable 
animal  is  lost  by  such  carelessness.  Tsetse  flies  are  often 
near  water. 

Medicines.  A  Burrough's  and  Welcome's  soldier's 
medicine  chest,  weighing  about  six  pounds,  is  the  best  thing 
of  its  kind  to  be  had,  but  the  stock  it  contains  is  too  dainty 
to  meet  the  needs  of  a  large  sefari.  Take  it,  of  course, 
but  take  besides: 

Epsom  salts  for  the  men,  bandages  in  plenty,  a  bottle 
of  calomel  tablets,  bottle  of  castor  oil,  iodoform,  mus- 
tard leaves,  Dover's  powders,  rolls  of  sticking  plaster, 
some  surgeon's  needles,  a  strong  syringe,  plenty  of  car- 
bolized  cotton,  two  or  three  pound  cans  of  vaseline,  bottle  of 
permanganate  crystals,  and  if  you  are  ambitious,  a  forceps. 
Bring  plenty  of  quinine  in  tablets  (hydroclor  is  best). 

You  should  know  how  to  wash  out  a  wound,  fix  a  ban- 
dage, or  set  a  bone. 

Have  a  fixed  time  (as  soon  as  luncheon  is  over  I  found 
the  most  convenient)  at  which  you  expect  the  men  to  come 
to  you  with  their  ailments.  Encourage  them  to  come, 


APPENDICES  441 

and  be  patient  with  them.  They  will  make  much  of  a 
trifle,  and  make  a  trifle  of  a  serious  symptom. 

The  common  troubles  are  the  result  of  over-eating  of 
half-cooked  food,  and  of  cold  nights  and  penetrating  rains. 
If  you  are  travelling  far,  and  if  you  are  to  be  out  in  the 
rainy  season,  see  that  you  have  an  old  tent  for  every  seven 
men,  as  well  as  a  new  one.  The  old  can  be  stretched  over 
the  new,  and  both  together  when  pitched  admirably,  as 
the  men  can  pitch  them,  if  you  insist  that  they  do  so,  will 
turn  almost  any  rain.  New  tents  cost  seven  rupees  each 
($2.50),  old  ones  you  can  buy  for  two  rupees,  so  that  the 
extra  cost  is  not  great.  This  matter  of  tent-pitching  is  all- 
important.  Let  the  men  see  at  once  that  you  will  not  toler- 
ate slovenly  put-up  tents,  and  they  will  act  accordingly. 
Leave  them  alone,  and  some  of  your  tents  will  be  in  rags 
in  a  month.  When  we  marched  across  bamboo  country, 
I  made  the  men,  much  against  their  will,  cut  and  carry 
Ijamboo  ridge  poles  for  each  porter's  tent.  Though  we 
encountered  unusual  rains,  there  was  very  little  sickness  in 
the  sefari.  Jiggers,  the  men  see  to  themselves.  Thorn 
wounds  are  often  troublesome,  these  you  will  need  to 
cleanse  out  thoroughly  with  disinfectant  and  keep  the  dirt 
out.  Old  cracks  and  wounds  in  the  feet  are  the  hardest 
things  to  care  for.  Fever  is  very  common  among  them. 
Give  a  cathartic  before  giving  quinine. 

See  a  good  doctor,  if  possible  a  man  who  has  some 
scientific  knowledge  of  the  tropics,  and  get  him  to  write 
down  for  you  the  treatment  necessary  for  simple  cases  of 
cold,  fever,  dysentery,  etc.  Many  of  the  doctors  in  Africa 
seemed  to  me,  to  put  it  charitably,  singularly  unenlight- 
ened; and  so  long  as  the  home  authorities  keep  on  send- 
ing out,  as  they  do  sometimes  still,  young  men  who  have 
not  even  had  a  single  course  of  instruction  in  any  tropical 
medicine  school,  how  can  the  civilian  or  the  soldier  have 
the  help  and  skilled  attention  they  need  and  surely  deserve. 


442  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

There  are  many  admirably  equipped  medical  men  in  the 
country,  but  the  utter  lack  of  system,  the  purposeless  mud- 
dling, as  it  seems  to  the  onlooker,  of  the  Home  Authori- 
ties, results  in  needless  loss  of  precious  life.  I  must  give 
one  instance  of  what  I  mean. 

Mombassa,  and  Kilindine,  its  port,  are  hotbeds  of  fever. 
One  energetic  medical  man,  reasonably  supported,  could 
destroy  malaria  there  in  one  season.  But  no,  nothing  is 
done.  The  people  drink  from  old  Portuguese  and  Arab 
wells.  And  even  in  so  small  a  community  of  white  people 
hundreds  of  severe  cases  of  fever  occur  yearly. 

The  German  authorities  would  not  tolerate  for  a  week  such 
a  state  of  things.  But  in  English  territory  "what  is  every- 
body's business  is  nobody's  business,"  as  the  Irish  tenant  said 
to  his  landlord  when  he  asked  him  why  no  one  shot  at  him. 

Tent.  Your  tent  is  your  home;  take  pains  with  it. 
Get  it  from  Edgington,  2  Duke  Street,  London  Bridge 
No  tents  that  I  have  seen  compare  with  his  tropical  green 
tent,  certainly  none  made  in  America.  Get  it  big  enough. 
One  tent  for  each  man.  Mine  is  9  x  8  x  7^.  Bath  room 
extends  four  feet  farther;  a  veranda  about  as  far  in  front. 
Net  pockets  around  side  of  tent  inside,  a  leather  strap 
studded  with  brass  hooks  to  fasten  around  tent  poles,  and 
a  ground  sheet  to  hook  up  inside.  This  is  important,  as  it 
makes  it  harder  for  ants,  rats,  and  snakes  to  get  in  during 
the  night.  Have  your  bed  (made  by  Edgington)  extra 
strong.  Have  also  a  light  canvas-covered  table,  an  easy 
canvas  chair,  a  smaller  one  for  tent  use,  and  a  dining  table^ 
the  legs  folding  under. 

Procure  the  brown  Jaeger  blankets,  sown  into  a  sack,  and 
a  thin  hair  mattress,  with  a  couple  of  good  pillows.  These> 
with  a  heavy  coat  added  for  the  chilly  evenings  and  nights, 
can  all  be  rolled  tightly  into  a  canvas  hold-all.  Mos- 
quito nets  are  made  by  the  same  firm  to  fit  the  tent,  and 
two  of  these  can  be  carried  in  the  same  bedding  roll. 


APPENDICES  443 

When  you  are  ordering  your  tent  get  two  or  three  ground 
sheets.  ^  These  are  always  useful,  and  can  be  more  cheaply 
bought  in  London  than  in  Africa.  No  sefari  ever  has  enough 
of  them.  Have  at  least  one  large  ground  sheet,  18  x  12. 
Half  a  dozen  canvas  buckets,  and  a  canvas  bath  and  wash- 
basin; these  complete  your  tent  outfit.  I  must  not  forget 
the  one  or  two  officers'  tin  boxes,  water-tight  (they  make 
excellent  floats  for  a  raft  on  occasion,  since  African  wood 
will  not  float)  wooden  bottoms,  marked  and  numbered; 
these  for  your  clothes,  tobacco,  books  and  odds  and  ends. 
They  must  not  weigh  over  fifty-five  pounds  when  packed. 

Food  Supplies.  I  have  found  the  Army  and  Navy 
Cooperative  Company,  Victoria  Street,  London,  very  satis- 
factory as  caterers.  They  have  had  a  large  experience  in 
fitting  out  expeditions  with  provisions,  etc.,  to  all  parts  of 
the  world.  The  things  supplied  are  of  first  class  quality. 
Their  packing  leaves  nothing  to  be  desired.  There  are 
subordinate  clerks  in  each  department  who  know  what 
you  require,  and  are  most  efficient  and  capable  in  helping 
you  to  select  what  is  necessary. 

Some  men  are  content  to  order  good,  simple  food,  only 
insisting  that  there  shall  be  variety  enough  to  insure  health. 
Others  supply  themselves  with  large  assortments  of  various 
canned  stuffs,  and  carry  wines,  spirits,  etc. 

I  give  below  my  own  list.  I  am  sure  one  needs  in  the 
tropics  to  live  well,  but  by  living  well,  I  don't  mean  supply- 
ing oneself  either  with  much  artificial  food  or  stimulating 
drinks.  Better  never  touch  whisky  or  any  alcohol,  on  sefari. 
But  such  advice,  I  fear,  will  be  regarded  as  a  counsel  of 
perfection.  In  my  account  I  leave  all  stimulants  out. 

All  provisions  must  be  packed  by  the  company  in  chop 
boxes.  These  when  full  ought  not  to  weigh  more  than 
fifty-five  pounds  at  most,  better  fifty.  Each  box  is  num- 
bered and  padlocked,  and  a  little  book  given  you,  con- 
taining a  list  of  what  each  box  contains.  Hand  this  book 


444  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

(better  have  it  made  out  in  duplicate)  with  the  keys,  to 
your  tentboy,  and  let  him  serve  out  the  things  to  the  cook. 

After  some  considerable  experience  in  more  lands 
than  one,  I  have  found  that  the  accompanying  quantities 
of  food  will  well  suffice  two  men  of  ordinary  appetite  for  a 
week.  Bacon  is  best  packed  in  salt,  in  a  box  by  itself;  other- 
wise it  soon  grows  rusty.  It  is  well  to  carry  all  flour,  oat- 
meal, sugar,  coffee,  rice,  salt  in  carefully  sealed  tins.  This 
the  Army  and  Navy  Company  do.  Mouldy  flour  makes 
wretched  bread,  and  when  there  are  no  vegetables,  bread  is 
all  important. 

I  put  no  baking  powder  in  my  list,  for  I  insist  on  good 
yeast-raised  bread,  and  will  take  no  cook  along  who  cannot 
make  such  bread.  Test  your  cook  on  his  baking  before  you 
engage  him.  See  he  does  not  pass  off  someone  else's  loaf 
as  his  own. 

I  believe  good  powdered  eggs  can  now  be  had.  If  that 
is  so,  they  should  be  included.  Large  quantities  of  dried 
fruit,  carefully  stewed  are,  I  think,  a  necessity. 

Indeed,  food  on  sefari  can  be  and  should  be  far  more 
appetizing  than  the  food  you  are  supplied  with  at  club  or 
hotel.  One  of  the  hardest  things  I  know  is  to  keep  in 
good  health  when  you  leave  your  camping  life  for  the 
frontier  town  or  the  still  more  trying  steamer. 

RATIONS    FOR   TWO  MEN   FOR    A    WEEK 


io    Ibs.    Flour.    One    third  fine 

io    Ibs.    Potatoes 

corn  meal  mixed 

4 

Onions 

5      "     Sugar 

I 

Soap 

5       '    Dried  fruit 

I 

Salt 

4       '     Butter 

| 

Worcester  Sauce 

1       '    Tea 

} 

Currie  powder 

i       '     Coffee 

| 

.    Dubbing  for  boots 

J            Cocoa 

I 

Cooper's  Marmalade 

2           Lard 

I 

Jam 

4            Bacon 

I 

Lentels 

7            Rice 

14  cans  (small)  Ideal  Milk 

2            Oatmeal 

§     Ib.     Box  of  biscuits 

APPENDICES  445 

Some  corn  beef,  canned  soups,  fruit,  currants,  choco- 
late may  be  taken. 

If  these  provisions  are  properly  cooked,  and  there  is 
no  pilfering  among  the  men,  they  should  provide  appetizing 
and  abundant  meals  for  two. 

Keep  your  stock  pot  on  the  fire  when  in  fixed  camp.. 
Add  a  few  onions  and  potatoes,  and  good  soup  is  always 
ready.  When  you  come  in,  fagged,  a  cupful  of  it  is  much 
better  for  you  than  a  whisky  and  soda. 

Examine  from  time  to  time  your  cook's  kettles  and  see 
they  are  kept  clean.  See  that  a  clean  rack  for  drying  all  the 
cooking  utensils  is  always  put  up  by  the  headman's  orders 
near  the  cooking  fire;  any  boughs  or  scrub  can  readily  be 
built  into  a  rack.  Dirt  in  and  near  your  food  is  not  only 
undesirable,  but  often  dangerous.  Insist  on  cleanliness 
and  good  cooking  and  you  will  certainly  get  them.  And 
do  not  grudge  the  time  to  go  round  yourself,  and  tell  your 
little  cook,  and  not  your  cook  only  but  his  hard-worked 
and  much  abused  aids,  the  two  cook  boys,  that  you  are 
pleased  with  them,  when  they  have  given  you  a  clean,  hot 
meal.  In  short,  don't  forget  sometimes  to  "purr,"  as  well 
as  to  "growl." 

As  to  cups,  plates,  dishes,  I  think  it  is  as  well  to  get 
them  on  the  spot.  You  are  always  liberally  allowed  for 
such  things  at  the  sefari's  end. 


APPENDIX  II 

NOTES    ON   ANIMALS    AND   WHERE  TO   FIND 

THEM 

/ 

Elephant'. 

Elephant  carrying  tusk  of  reasonable  size  can  be  secured 
by  the  persevering  hunter  within  the  borders  of  the  Pro- 
tectorate. 

A  trip  to  Uganda  will,  if  proper  arrangements  have  been 
made  beforehand,  yield  you  larger  tusks.  But  it  must 
be  remembered  that  the  climate  of  Uganda  is  not  so  healthy, 
and  that  at  present  the  spiritum  tick  adds  very  considerable 
danger  to  the  expedition.  In  order  to  reach  the  best  ele- 
phant countries  in  Uganda,  Toro,  or  Bunyoro,  a  fort- 
night's trek  along  roads  infested  with  this  dangerous  tick 
is  necessary.  One  bite  from  an  infected  insect  is  enough 
to  bring  on  the  fever,  and  tick  fever  means  a  series  of  three- 
day  attacks,  that  may  completely  disable  the  toughest 
for  months.  Sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  a  'missionary 
who  was  down  with  the  disease  while  I  was  there,  the  very 
first  fever  ends  fatally. 

If  a  special  licence  is  procured  (and  influence  at  home 
will  secure  such  a  licence)  money  may  be  made,  over  and 
above  all  expenses,  by  shooting  Congo  elephants.  But 
no  tyro  should  attempt  the  trip.  Better  be  contented  to 
kill  one  or  two  fair-sized  bulls  within  the  limits  of  a  healthier 
and  more  accessible  country. 

German  East  Africa,  east  of  Tanganeka  Lake,  is  a  good 
elephant  country.  The  licence  paid  by  sportsmen  is  low, 
£10,  and  a  hunter,  if  he  wishes  to  give  up  time  to  the  sport, 
can  kill  almost  any  number  of  elephants.  There  are  men 

446 


APPENDICES  447 

who  make  a  good  living  and  lay  by  money,  who  hunt 
professionally  in  these  lands.  Within  British  East  Africa 
the  herds  have  been  much  harried.  Till  three  years  ago 
many  elephants  were  killed  by  so-called  sportsmen,  whose 
licence  limited  them  to  two  bulls.  There  was  no  pro- 
hibition against  trading  ivory  from  the  natives,  so  two  of 
the  largest  bulls  killed  were  taken  on  licence,  and 
declaration  was  untruthfully  made  that  all  the  rest  were 
traded  from  natives.  In  this  way  men  would  collect, 
often  with  little  trouble,  £1,000  worth  or  more  of  ivory, 
and  so  pay  all  sefari  expenses  and  have  a  margin  of 
profit  left  over. 

The  law  is  now  strictly  enforced,  and  makes  such  a  pro- 
ceeding impossible.  No  trading  with  natives  is  per- 
mitted, and  unless  the  hunter  is  unscrupulous  enough  to 
smuggle  illicit  ivory  over  the  German  border,  he  must 
content  himself  with  his  two  bulls. 

The  natives  harry  the  herds  perpetually  and  on  the 
long  and  unwatched  frontiers  of  the  Protectorate,  ivory 
running  is  easy.  Unscrupulous  Somali  and  Swahili  come 
round  from  time  to  time.  The  natives  bury  the  ivory  they 
kill  and  wait  for  the  coming  of  the  trader. 

I  am  convinced  that  the  present  policy  of  the  Protec- 
torate authorities  is  a  great  mistake.  If  they  would  but 
authorize  certain  men  of  well-known  good  character,  men 
who  should  pay  a  heavy  licence  fee,  binding  them  to 
handle  no  small  tusks  or  cow  ivory,  to  trade  with  the 
natives  for  ivory,  a  considerable  revenue  would  accrue 
to  the  government,  and  the  elephants  would  be  more 
really  protected. 

Owing  to  constant  pursuit,  the  British  elephant  has 
learned  to  take  good  care  of  himself.  He  is  also  much  more 
likely  to  turn  on  his  persecutors  than  his  cousin  of  the  Congo. 
Accidents  from  elephants  are  very  common.  The  very 
thick  cover  he  loves,  such  as  bamboo,  or  the  quite  open 


448  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

plains,  are  both  rather  undesirable  places  in  which  to  tackle 
him.  But  the  elephant  hunter  must  take  on  elephant  wher- 
ever he  is  fortunate  enough  to  come  on  them. 

There  is  scarcely  any  part  of  the  protectorate  in  which 
you  may  not  happen  on  elephant.  They  turn  up  unex- 
pectedly in  most  unlikely  places.  In  the  Kinan  Kop  woods 
near  Naivasha,  all  round  Kenia,  in  the  Aberdare  range, 
on  all  sides  of  the  Nzoia  plateau,  on  the  slopes  of  Mt.  Elgon 
and  in  the  Elgao  forests,  they  are  still  abundant.  But  you 
may  have  to  go  up  as  I  have  to  many  herds,  before  you  find 
bulls  carrying  ivory  heavy  enough  to  shoot. 

Shoot:  (i)  between  the  eye  and  ear,  nearer  the  ear  and 
lower  than  the  eye.  (2)  Right  in  the  shoulder.  (3)  A 
foot  above  the  tail,  if  he  is  going  straight  away,  reaches 
the  spine,  and  stops  him.  One  shot  in  any  of  these 
places  is  enough. 

Buffalo: 

Buffalo  have  increased  greatly  in  later  years.  One  bull 
is  now  the  limit  permitted.  There  must  be  a  change  made 
soon,  for  buffalo  are  becoming  destructive. 

There  are  several  herds  near  Nairobi  and  permission 
can  often  be  obtained  to  take  a  head  from  these.  Donyea 
Sabuk  has  many  buffalo.  There  are  more  in  the  Kedong, 
thirty  miles  from  the  town. 

Five  miles  from  Punda  Melia  near  Fort  Hall  there  are 
several  herds.  All  down  the  Tana  near  Embo  they  are 
very  numerous.  Laikipia  along  the  Quasi  Nyiro  of  the 
North  they  are  common,  but  the  cactus  cover  makes  hunt- 
ing very  dangerous. 

The  valley  of  the  Kerio  and  the  slopes  of  Cherangang 
are  full  of  them,  but  the  horns  do  not  seem  to  be  quite  as 
large  as  in  other  parts.  Shoot  them  well  forward  and  low 
down  in  the  shoulder. 

Rhino: 

Everywhere.     Few    big   horns    anywhere.     Across    the 


APPENDICES  449 

Quasi  Nyiro  of  the  South,  along  German  borders  they  run 
larger.  North  of  Kenia  there  are  some  large  ones.  There 
are  very  many  on  the  Tana  and  Theka,  three  days  from 
Nairobi.  And  also  on  Laikipia  plateau. 

Shoot  them  for  a  side  shot  well  forward,  rather  low  down; 
for  a  front  shot,  full  in  the  chest  and  only  a  few  inches 
above  the  brisket.  They  are  easy  to  kill. 

Greater  Koodo: 

Not  common  anywhere  in  British  East  Africa.  Per- 
mits are  given  to  some  to  shoot  a  single  bull  in  the  game 
reserve  north  of  Lake  Baringo.  I  saw  a  good  one  shot 
at  Solai  Swamp  (the  hills  near  by)  three  days  from  Nakuru 
north.  The  game  rangers  can  be  depended  upon  to  know 
the  latest  news  as  to  their  whereabouts. 

Lesser  Koodo: 

At  the  junction  of  Quasi  Narok  and  Quasi  Nyiro  I 
saw  them.  They  can  be  had  with  a  little  trouble.  The 
railroad  people  are  most  courteous  in  giving  information 
about  lesser  koodo.  This  antelope  is  very  local,  choosing 
a  place  and  staying  there  for  months,  not  moving  to  any 
distance  so  long  as  he  can  get  water.  He  seems  to  feed 
on  the  nightshade  fruit,  the  yellow  tomato,  so  common 
everywhere.  I  am  not  aware  of  any  other  animal  that 
eats  it.  The  natives  declare  it  is  most  poisonous  and 
certainly  it  looks  it. 

Roan: 

Common  near  Punda,  where  at  present  it  is  protected. 
Common  at  Muhroni,  three  stations  from  Port  Florence 
on  the  Lake.  Before  visiting  Muhroni  find  out  if  the  grass 
has  been  burned.  In  long  unburned  grass,  hunting  them 
is  a  trying  experience.  There  is  much  fever  too.  The  buck 
is  a  splendid  beast,  weighing  as  much  as  500  pounds,  but 
in  British  East  Africa  the  horns  seldom  attain  a  great  length. 
Twenty-seven  inches  is  a  good  head. 


450  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Water-buck: 

The  finest  are  to  be  had  on  the  Nzoia.  There,  horns  of 
over  thirty  inches  are  not  uncommon.  This  antelope 
is  one  of  the  finest  in  East  Africa,  weighs  about  600  pounds, 
has  a  habit  of  concealing  himself  when  wounded,  and 
should  be  approached  with  caution.  A  friend  of  mine 
was  almost  killed  by  a  buck  he  had  wounded  and  which 
he  approached  carelessly.  The  only  hurt  I  received  dur- 
ing thirteen  months'  hunting  was  from  a  wounded  water- 
buck.  All  African  antelope  fall  quickly  to  a  shot  well  for- 
ward in  the  shoulder. 

Kongoni : 

Coke's  hartebeest  and  Jackson's  hartebeest  are  the 
two  common  kinds.  Jackson's  hartebeest  is  much  the 
finer  of  the  two,  weighing,  I  should  say,  almost  one  hun- 
dred pounds  more  than  Coke's.  Jackson's  is  common  on 
the  Nzoia  and  less  frequently  met  with  on  the  Aberdare  and 
the  Mau  Escarpment. 

There  is  an  established  belief  that  kongoni  are  unus- 
ually hard  to  kill.  I  have  not  found  this  to  be  true.  They 
will  fall  as  promptly  to  a  well-placed  bullet,  even  if  it  be 
not  bigger  than  the  little  .256  Mannlicher,  as  any  other  ante- 
lope. Most  men  shoot  all  game  much  too  far  back.  I 
have  been  at  times  obliged  to  feed  my  sefari  for  many  days 
together  on  kongoni  meat.  There  was  famine  in  the 
country  and  "potio"  was  unattainable.  I  have  more  than 
once  killed  ten  with  ten  consecutive  shots  (in  about  a  week). 

I  once  shot  three  with  three  shots.  The  nearest  lay 
when  I  shot  him  275  yards  off,  the  farthest  was  290  yards; 
a  circle  with  a  diameter  of  thirty  yards  contained  all  three. 
I  always  sat  down  for  such  long-range  shooting,  and  invari- 
ably used  a  small  telescope  sight. 

Eland: 

Eland  are  now  very  much  more  plentiful  than  they  were 
three  years  ago.  Between  the  Athi  and  Theka  rivers,  north 


APPENDICES  45i 

of  Nakuru,  all  over  Laikipia  country,  everywhere  on  Nzoia 
plateau,  they  are  to  be  found. 

One  bull  is  now  allowed  on  a  licence,  a  second  can  be 
shot  on  payment  of  seventy-five  rupees. 

They  are  a  magnificent  animal.  The  largest  bulls 
must,  I  think,  weigh  2,000  pounds.  A  twenty-five 
inch  horn  is  a  fair  specimen.  They  are  sometimes 
hard  to  approach,  sometimes  very  easy.  You  can 
always  ride  them  down  if  you  are  well  mounted. 
They  have  a  strange  habit  of  kicking  up  behind  (a 
very  high  kick)  when  they  receive  the  ball.  The  bulls 
are  easily  distinguished  from  the  cows  (which  are  pro- 
tected) by  their  darker  blue  colour,  and  by  their  much 
heavier  build. 

Wildesbeest  or  Gnu: 

A  strange  antelope.  Far  more  like  a  small  buffalo 
(American)  than  an  antelope.  They  travel  in  lines,  and 
whisk  their  tails,  just  as  our  buffalo  used  to  do.  Plentiful 
on  the  Athi  plains,  and  in  all  the  country  south  of  the 
railroad.  Sometimes  rather  hard  to  stalk.  If  shot  too  far 
back  they  will  take  a  lot  of  following.  Shot  forward,  they 
drop  at  once.  Two  are  allowed. 

Oryx: 

Very  plentiful  on  Laikipia  plateau.  You  are  allowed 
two.  If  you  want  good  heads  take  some  time  and  examine 
the  heads  well  before  shooting.  I  found  the  horns  par- 
ticularly hard  to  judge.  Thirty-three  inches  are  not  uncom- 
mon. But  if  care  is  not  taken  you  will  shoot  much  shorter 
specimens.  Keep  your  legs  free  from  the  sweep  of  the  very 
sharp  and  dangerous  horns.  They  weigh  up  to  450  pounds. 

The  fringed-ear  oryx  is  a  distinct  species.  Can  be 
shot  near  Simba,  east  of  Nairobi. 

Impala: 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  of  all  African  antelopes. 
Widely  distributed,  easy  of  approach.  I  have  found  it 


452  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

harder  to  judge  the  impala  horn  than  the  horn  of  any  other. 
Twenty-six  is  a  fair  measurement.  Twenty-eight  inches 
can  be  got.  They  sometimes  go  off  when  frightened  with 
a  series  of  extraordinary  high  bounds.  I  am  quite  sure  that 
I  have  seen  impala,  so  bounding,  rise  at  least  ten  feet  into 
the  air.  A  good  buck  will  go  one  hundred  and  eighty 
pounds.  I  have  known  a  leopard  carry  a  full-sized  buck 
impala,  horns  and  all,  high  up  into  a  well-grown  tree,  and 
so  hide  it  from  the  vultures. 

Topi: 

An  ugly  antelope,  darker  and  smaller  than  a  kongoni. 
In  most  places  rather  shy  of  approach.  Common  in  Nzoia 
and  at  Muhroni  near  the  lake.  If  shot  too  far  back  will 
give  you  a  lot  of  trouble. 

Grant  Gazelle: 

A  beautiful  antelope  with  a  beautiful  head.  Ten  are 
allowed  on  a  licence,  but  it  seems  a  shame  to  shoot 
anything  like  so  many.  Shoot  the  useless  and  fat 
zebra  instead,  when  you  want  meat  for  sefari.  Grant 
are  widely  distributed.  There  are  some  very  large  heads 
to  be  got.  Southeast  of  Naivasha  near  Shuswa  (the  ex- 
tinct crater)  I  have  shot  a  apj-inch  head.  A  distinct 
species  of  Grant  (annotata)  is  found  on  Laikipia  plateau. 
These  have  not  so  heavy  heads;  24  inches  is  a  good  meas- 
urement. 

Robert's  Eye,  another  Grant,  is  quite  plentiful  south  of 
the  railroad  toward  the  German  line.  The  horns  are  quite 
extraordinarily  widely  spread  at  the  tips.  A  good  Grant 
buck  will  weigh  about  150  pounds. 

Thompson  Gazelle: 

Tommy  are  everywhere  except  on  the  Nzoia.  There 
you  never  see  one.  They  have  been  so  cruelly  shot  down 
that  the  numbers  are  greatly  reduced.  Grant  and  Tommy 
often  run  in  herds  together.  Tommy  are  much  smaller, 
weighing  (the  buck)  about  ninety  pounds.  A  thirteen-inch 


APPENDICES  453 

horn  is  a  fair  specimen.  Be  merciful  to  the  pretty  fellow, 
don't  shoot  him  for  your  men.  And  when  you  shoot  (he  is  a 
small  mark)  shoot  to  miss  or  kill  by  shooting  well  forward. 

Reed-buck: 

Very  widely  distributed,  wherever  there  are  reeds  or 
damp  ground.  A  good  buck  will  weigh  almost  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  pounds.  Short  horns,  curving  forward. 
An  easy  antelope  to  stalk  and  kill.  Rather  poor  eating. 

Bush-buck: 

One  of  the  prettiest  trophies  in  Africa.  Dark  red  colour, 
horn  straight,  very  sharp  and  very  strong.  The  cry  is 
strange,  almost  a  dog's  bark.  The  flesh  good  food.  He 
keeps  close  during  daytime.  Early  morning  and  late  even- 
ing finds  him  feeding  round  the  outside  of  the  thick  coverts 
he  loves.  The  steep  slopes  falling  toward  Embellossett 
Swamp  are  one  of  his  most  favourite  resorts.  On  the  bor- 
ders of  many  swampy  rivers  of  the  Nzoia  plateau  he  is 
common,  and  large  heads  can  be  shot.  High  up  in  bam- 
boo and  elephant  country  you  find  him.  Bush-buck 
take  some  looking  for,  but  are  well  worth  it.  An  eighteen- 
inch  horn  measured  along  the  curving  rib  is  a  good  speci- 
men. Why  Ward  so  measures  bush-buck  horns  I  don't 
know.  I  should  have  thought  that  straight  measurement 
from  base  to  tip  was  the  simplest  and  fairest. 

Oraby: 

A  beautiful  little  antelope.  A  more  constant  jumper 
than  any  other.  Weighs  not  more  than  fifty  pounds. 
Short,  sharp  horns,  six  inches  a  fair  head,  hinged  at  the 
base.  Perhaps  the  best  venison  in  East  Africa.  In  the 
hills  to  the  east  of  Punda  Melia,  nowhere  else  so  far  as  I 
know  near  Nairobi.  Very  common  on  the  Nzoia  plateau. 
Rather  rare  at  Laikipia.  Here  and  there  south  of  the  rail- 
road and  very  abundant  as  you  approach  the  great  lake. 

Kobus  Kob: 

A  fine  antelope.     Only  found  in  one  place  within  the 


454  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

Protectorate,  viz.,  the  banks  of  the  Nzoia  River.  Here 
it  is  very  numerous  indeed.  Herds  of  a  hundred  or  more 
are  quite  common.  Twenty-two-inch  horns  is  a  good 
head.  A  big  buck  must  weigh  almost  two  hundred  pounds. 
The  horns  curve  first  backward  and  then  forward. 

Stein-buck: 

Like  an  oraby  but  smaller,  does  not  show  as  much 
white,  and  when  running  does  not  rush  away  with  the 
same  beautiful  swinging  jumps.  Horn  smooth  and  straight. 

Klip  springer: 

A  rock  antelope  found  on  stony  kopjes.  Widely 
distributed.  Dark  brown,  weighing  about  twenty  pounds. 
Horns  rimmed  at  base,  four  inches  a  good  specimen. 

Gerenuk: 

Only  found  on  the  Laikipia  plateau  and  in  the  lower 
country  east  of  Nairobi.  A  slim  antelope,  shy  and  hard 
to  approach.  Light  red  in  colour.  Unlike  all  other 
African  antelopes,  moves  at  a  very  fast  trot,  throwing 
forward  its  unusually  long  legs.  Horns  curve  inward 
at  tips.  Weighs  less  than  one  hundred  pounds. 

Duiker-buck: 

Always  springs  up  suddenly  from  long  grass.  A  dark 
gray  antelope.  In  cover  it  resembles  an  immense  rabbit 
in  motion.  Hard  to  shoot  with  rifle  as  it  never  seems 
to  stand  still.  Straight,  sharp  horns,  six  inches  a  good 
head. 

Dick-Dick: 

The  smallest  of  the  antelopes,  found  plentifully  in 
lower  bushy  country,  does  not  weigh  more  than  a  hare. 

Hippopotamus: 

riippo  are  not  usually  worth  shooting  in  the  Pro- 
tectorate. Occasionally  a  good  tusk  can  be  got  on 

Naivasha  Lake. 

*** 

If  I  were  again  shooting  in  East  Africa  I  should  try 


APPENDICES  455 

to  get  dogs  for  following  up  wounded  lion  in  thick  cover. 
I  think  that  one  or  two  plucky  terriers  would  greatly 
lessen  the  risk  run  in  doing  so. 

Places  to  Go: 

Short  trips  of  from  a  fortnight  to  a  month's  duration 
can  very  pleasantly  be  made  from  Nairobi.  Twenty 
porters  are  ample  for  such  trips,  since  potio  supplies  can 
be  obtained  in  every  direction.  Careful  hunting  will 
result  in  a  good  variety  of  specimens,  many  of  the  rarer 
antelopes  can  be  shot,  and  if  you  are  a  stranger  in  the 
country,  one  or  two  such  trips  are  the  best  preparation 
possible  for  a  long  sefari. 

Messrs.  Newland,  Tarlton  &  Co.,  can  always  advise 
as  to  the  best  places  to  visit. 

Beside  these  short  expeditions,  there  are  three  direc- 
tions in  which  for  some  years  to  come  long  journeys,  which 
would  entail  a  more  elaborate  preparation,  can  be  made. 

I:  Across  the  Rift  Valley  toward  the  German  border, 
and  westward  to  the  lake.  A  wagon  can  be  used  on  this 
trip  and  this  mode  of  travelling  greatly  lessens  expenses. 

Elephant,  buffalo,  rhino,  most  of  the  antelopes,  and 
plentiful  lion  may  be  expected  by  this  route. 

II:  Guash  Gnisu  Plateau  across  the  Nzoia,  and  as  far 
north  as  the  Turquell  River,  exploring  Mt.  Elgon  and 
returning  southward  by  Cherangang  mountains  and  the 
Elgao  Escarpment,  of  this  I  have  written  at  length. 

Ill :  From  Gilgil  or  Naivasha,  along  or  over  the  Aberdare 
to  Laikipia  Boma.  Thence  to  Guasi  Nyiro  of  the  North. 
Round  Kenia,  and  back  by  Ft.  Hall.  Of  this  trip  I  have  also 
written.  Each  of  these  should  require  four  months'  sefari 
at  least.  Nothing  is  gained  by  hurrying.  The  scenery  is 
lovely.  The  climate  very  fine.  And  in  my  judgment  the 
very  best  time  to  start  on  such  expeditions  is  April  or  even  a 
month  earlier.  The  rain  is  no  obstacle  to  a  good  sefari,  and 
there  are  many  hours  of  warm  sunshine  in  each  day. 


456  THE  LAND  OF  THE  LION 

If  you  want  good  porters,  good  servants,  good  head- 
man, and  a  good  white  hunter,  be  sure  to  make  your 
arrangements  at  least  six  months  beforehand.  I  strongly 
advise  those  who  do  not  know  East  Africa  to  engage, 
either  Mr.  Cunningham,  or  Mr.  Hoey,  both  can  be 
communicated  with  through  Messrs.  Newland,  Tarlton 
&  Co.,  Nairobi. 

Head  Skins: 

The  treatment  and  preservation  of  head  skins,  and 
skins  generally  is  rather  beyond  the  scope  of  these  notes 
of  mine.  It  needs  a  whole  chapter  to  itself.  Mr.  Ward 
has  published  an  admirable  small  book  which  gives  all 
requisite  information.  Any  good  gunbearer,  however,  who 
knows  his  business,  is  sure  to  be  able  to  give  your  specimens 
all  the  care  they  need.  On  your  sefari  also  see  that  you 
engage  one  or  two  skinners  to  help  him.  Some  of  your 
men  are  sure  to  know  how  to  skin  heads.  Do  not  load 
yourself  up  with  patent  preparations  for  curing  skins. 
These  are  not  necessary.  Sun,  alum  and  care,  are  about 
all  that  you  need,  especially  care. 


APPENDIX  III 

LION    TELEGRAMS 

I  copy  out  four  telegrams  sent  by  Hindi  stationmaster, 
on  the  Uganda  railroad,  and  procured  for  me  by  the  courtesy 
of  the  manager  of  the  line. 

17-8-05,  i  hr.  45  mins. 
Simba  (i) 

THE  TRAFFIC  MANAGER 

Lion  is  on  the  platform.  Please  instruct  guard  and 
driver  to  proceed  carefully  and  without  signal  in  yard. 
Guard  to  advise  passengers  not  to  get  out  here  and  be  care- 
ful when  coming  in  office. 

17-8-05,  7  hr.  45  mins. 
.Simba  (2) 

THE  TRAFFIC  MANAGER. 

One  African  injured  at  6  o'clock  again  by  lion  and  hence 
sent  to  Makindu  Hospital  by  trolley.  Traffic  manager 
please  send  cartridges  by  4  down  train  certain. 

17-8-05,  1 6  hrs. 
Simba  (3) 

THE  TRAFFIC  MANAGER, 

Pointsman  is  surrounded  by  two  lions  while  returning 
from  distant  signal  and  hence  pointsman  went  on  top  of 
telegraph  post  near  water  tanks.  Train  to  stop  there 
and  take  him  on  train  and  then  proceed.  Traffic  manager 
to  please  arrange  steps. 

20-4-08,  23  hrs.  35  mins. 
Tsavo  (4) 

THE  TRAFFIC  MANAGER, 

2  down  driver  to  enter  my  yard  very  cautiously  points  locked 
up.  No  one  can  go  out.  Myself  Shedman  Porters  all 
in  office.  Lion  sitting  before  office  door. 

457 


APPENDIX  IV 


VOCABULARY  OF  AFRICAN  WORDS 


Load  up,  Bandika. 

Take  hold,  Kamata,  shika. 

Come  back,  Rudi,  rudi  nyuma. 

Left,  Sboto. 

Right,  Kuume. 

Day,  Siku. 

Hold  your  tongue,  Nyamaza,  kelele. 

Liar,  Mwongo. 

Plenty,  Nyingi. 

Bad,  Mb  ay  a. 

How  many  ?  Ngapi  ? 

Much,  Nyingi. 

Far,  Mbali. 

Near,  Karibu. 

Big,  Kubwa. 

Little,  Ndogo. 

Too  far  away,  Mbali  sana. 

Knife,  Kisu. 

Gun,  Bunduki. 

Cartridge,  Kiasi  (pi.  Viasi). 

Sharpen  knife,  Noa  kisu. 

Clean  gun,  Safisha  bunduki. 

Give  me,  Nipe  mimi. 

Put  in  tent,  Weka  hemani,  tia  katika 

hfma. 
Bring,  Lete. 
Skin  this,  Chuna  hit. 
Mule,  Nyumbu. 
Sheep,  Kondoo. 
Horse,  Farasi. 
Cow,  Ng'ombe  (mke). 
Donkey,  Fund  a. 
Get  down,  Shuka  cbini. 
Sit  down,  Kaa  cbini. 
Go  ahead,  N enda  mbele,  tangulia. 
Pay  attention,  Sikiliza,  sikia. 


458 


Tie,  Funga. 

Untie,  Fungua. 

Stop,  Bass,  wacha. 

Look   round,   Tazama  sana,  tazama 

huku  na  buku. 

Look  for  (game),  Tafuta  (nyama). 
You  are  wanted,  Unatakiwa. 
You  are  called,  Unakwttwa. 
Take  care,  Angalia. 
Where  is  ?  Wapi  ? 
What  is  ?,  Nini  ? 
Wait,  Ngoja. 
Let  it  down,  Wacba. 
Are   you    ready?  (pi.),  M'ko   tayari 

(sgl.,  uko  tayari)? 
Do  you  understand  ?  Unasikia,  was- 

ikia  ? 
What  do  you  want  ?  Unataka  nini> 

watakani? 

What  is  your  name  ?  Jina  lako  nar.i  ? 
Thank  you,  Ah,  santa,  Ah,  sante. 
Good  morning,  Jambo,  Hujambo. 
Good    evening,    Kua    heri. 
How  are  you  ?     Uhali  gani? 
Not  yet,  Bado. 
One,  Moja. 
Two,  Mbili. 
Three,  Tatu. 
Four,  Nine. 
Five,  Tano. 
Six,  Sita. 
Seven,  Saba. 
Eight,  None. 
Nine,  Kenda,  tissia. 
Ten,  Kumi. 
Evening,  Jioni. 


VOCABULARY  OF  AFRICAN  WORDS       459 


Morning,  Assubui. 

To-day,  Leo. 

Yesterday,  'Jana. 

Day  before  yesterday,  Juzi. 

To-morrow,  Kesbo. 

Be  quick,  Upesi,  Hima. 

Come  on,  Njoo. 

Wait  here,  Ngoja  hapa. 

Stay  behind,  Simama  nyuma. 

Cold,  Baridi. 

Cold  water,  Maji  ya  baridi. 

Hot  (water)  Moto  (maji  ya  moto). 

White,  Nyeupe. 

Black,  Nyeusi. 

Fish,  Samaki. 

To  fish,  Kuvua  samaki. 

Meat   (game),  Nyama   (mwitu). 

Meat  dried,  Nyama  kavu. 

Many,  Nyingi. 

None,  Hapana. 

Few,  Haba. 

Big,  Kubuia. 


Small,  Ndogo. 

Wood,  Mwitu. 

Fire  wood,  Kuni. 

Get  wood,  Lets  kuni. 

Water,  Maji. 

Fire,  Moto. 

Make  fire,  Koka  moto. 

Load,  Mzigo  (pi.  Mizigo). 

Put  down  your  loads,  Tueni  mizigo 

yenu  (Tuani  mizigo). 
Take  up  your  loads,  "Jitwekeni  mizigo, 

inuani  mizigo. 
Good  man,  Mtu  mzuri. 
Elephant,  Tembo. 
Rhino,  Faru,  Fao. 
Leopard,  Chui. 
Eland,  Pofu. 
Waterbuck,  Kuro. 
Giraffe,  Twiga. 
Zebra,  Punda  milia. 
Bush-buck,  Pongo  (Swala  mkubwa). 
Hartebeeste,  Kongoni. 


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